Where the Heart Is
by xpurebloodprofilersx
Summary: Emily Prentiss is returning to the BAU after two years in London for INTERPOL, but her return doesn't go as smoothly as she had hoped. New relationships, new dynamics within the team, a constant reminder of her past, and a little blossoming crush on her boss make things a bit difficult. That, and the fact that Ian Doyle may not be as dead as everyone thinks he is. Hotchniss.
1. Chapter 1

Emily Prentiss had barely stepped off of the plane when her team surrounded her. JJ's arms were around Emily's neck in an instant, pulling her into a very tight and immediately returned hug.

The moment she let go, Morgan threw his arms around her waist, lifting her off of the ground and spinning her around in a circle. He planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Garcia!" Emily exclaimed as Morgan set her down. She found herself immediately enveloped in a one-armed hug from the Technical Analyst, and pulled away almost immediately.

"Why are you - oh, my God!" Emily squealed, her eyes landing on the caramel-colored baby in Garcia's other arm. The child was asleep and looked to be about six months old. "Penelope Garcia!" she exclaimed incredulously, turning from Garcia to Morgan to the baby.

Garcia smiled and shrugged playfully, and then Morgan came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"So, what, are you two, like, a thing now?" Emily asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh, well," Garcia said, blushing, "No. Not really."

Emily's eyebrows shot up. "Not really?"

"We're both, um, kind of... seeing other people," Garcia explained.

"So... you had a baby together... but now you're just, not dating?"

Morgan and Garcia exchanged a look, and then they both nodded.

"Um, okay," said Emily, frowning slightly as she looked back at the baby, "Oh, my God, she's so cute, though. What's her name?"

"Kendall Fracine Morgan," Morgan said proudly. "After my mother."

Garcia wrinkled her nose in what resembled disgust at the mention of the name "Francine", and Emily bit back a laugh.

"It's the genetically perfect offspring of Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia," Emily stated, winking at the technical analyst.

She looked along the line of agents and children gathered to see her. "Hotch," she declared, stepping forward to pull him into an awkward hug, which he returned with surprising passion.

"We've missed you, Prentiss," Hotch said, flashing her one of his rare dimpled smiles.

"I've missed you guys, too," said Emily, smiling at them. "So much." She stepped back again, looking at the agents. "Wow, Jack, you've gotten so big! How old are you?"

"Eight."

"Wow, practically a grown man!" Emily exclaimed, beaming at the child. "And Henry, how old are you?"

"I'm six," he said, smiling up at her. "I missed you, Auntie Emmy!" he exclaimed loudly. Emily bent down and scooped the little boy up onto her hip, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I missed you, too, buddy!" Emily said happily. She turned to Rossi, who kissed her on the cheek.

"You're looking good, kiddo," he said, pulling her into a hug. "We missed you so much."

"I've missed you all so much, too," said Emily, hugging Reid. "Oh, my God, and JJ is pregnant! You're huge! How far are you?"

"Seven months," said JJ, running her hands over her baby bump. "It's twins."

"Aww, really? That's great!" Emily said, placing her right hand on JJ's swollen stomach, still holding Henry on her left hip, her left arm curled around the little boy's torso. Henry began to twist a braid into a section of Emily's hair.

"So, where's Will?"

The entire team tensed up along with the little boy in her arms, and Emily immediately knew that something was wrong.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize... how long?" she asked awkwardly, as Hotch and Morgan and Rossi dismissed themselves to go and find Emily's luggage. The girls began to walk towards the airport cafe.

"Um... probably about... seven months."

"Is he the...?" Emily asked, finally setting Henry down at a booth.

"No."

Emily raised her eyebrows, sliding into the booth after Jack and setting her carry on bag next to her seat. JJ and Garcia sat across from them, the baby still in Garcia's arms.

"No?" Emily asked, surprised. "Who is, then? I mean, I know it's none of my business... If you don't want to tell me..."

JJ exchanged a glance with Garcia, who wiggled her eyebrows.

"Rossi."

Emily choked on a sip of water she had taken, coughing some of it up. It took her long enough to recover that Jack and Henry both looked up from their drawings, concerned, and the baby woke up. Garcia quickly calmed her daughter down, and the child sat on her lap, giggling happily and tugging on her curly hair. Kendall wore a bright pink dress with a cat on it, and she had a huge bow and a blue flower in her hair. She was dressed like a miniature Garcia. "_Rossi? _Dave Rossi? _Our _Rossi?"

JJ laughed. "Yes, our Rossi."

"Wow," said Emily, leaning back against the torn booth cushion, "I didn't see that one coming. So are you, like, together now?"

JJ smiled and sighed. "Yeah, we are. We're engaged."

"Oh my _god,_" Emily squealed excitedly. "Jennifer Jareau, the fourth Mrs. Rossi!"

"Don't remind me," said JJ, rolling her eyes. "You know, he actually asked me six times before I agreed."

"Wow," she replied. The girls sat in a happy silence for a few minutes and then Emily's gaze wandered back to the baby. "How old is she, PG?"

"This baby girl is six months old already," Garcia said, sighing. "Kendy-Boo," she said, turning her gaze to the little girl and talking in a baby-voice, "This is your Auntie Em. She lived in London for awhile, but then she tapped her ruby-slippers together and decided 'There's no place like home!'" Emily and JJ laughed at the animated expressions flitting across Garcia's face as she cooed to her daughter. The baby, however, looked confused.

Kendall turned her gaze toward Emily, and the two pairs of chocolate brown eyes met. Kendall gave Emily a gummy smile, and reached her arms out towards her. Emily lifted the baby over the table and settled her on her hip. "Hi, sweet-pea, how are you?" she cooed to the baby, who giggled.

"Aww, Em, she likes you," Garcia said, smiling at her friend.

"You ever think about having any?" JJ asked Emily after a glance towards Garcia.

"Huh?" Emily asked, tearing her gaze away from the little girl. "No, I'm not... I mean... I don't know. I don't really think I'm all that maternal."

"Are you kidding?" Garcia demanded. "Look at you! You already flirted with Jack earlier and you carried Henry across the airport and now you're playing with Kendall!"

"They all do adore you, Emily," said JJ. "When I told Henry that Auntie Em was coming back, he did his happy dance. He hasn't done that since Will..." she trailed off, staring at her napkin. Garcia rubbed her back gently.

"And so what's the deal with you and Morgan, Pen?" Emily asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Garcia said a little sadly. "We were kind of together and then we weren't anymore."

"And was that before or after the baby?"

"Before," she replied, and then frowned. "Well, maybe _during._"

"During? During the pregnancy, you mean?"

"Yeah," Garcia said. "I think I was about four or five months when we... Well, I don't know. We were never officially a thing so it's kind of hard to say when it ended, you know?"

Emily nodded, although she wasn't actually quite sure what her quirky friend was trying to say. "So who are you guys seeing now?"

"I'm with Kevin again, and Morgan's seeing a woman named Savannah."

"Do you like Savannah?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, I do, actually. She's really great."

"Well, that's good, I guess. It's kind of weird that Morgan would just up and leave you like that, though," Emily said, frowning slightly.

"Leave me?" Garcia asked, her eyebrows pressed up in confusion.

"No, Em, they live together," JJ said.

"Wait, wait, wait," Emily said, frowning. "You live together, and you have a baby together, but you're both seeing other people, and the other people are okay with that whole arrangement?"

Garcia shrugged. "More or less."

"Isn't that _weird, _though?"

"Not really," Garcia said, although it was phrased more as a question than an answer.

"It's pretty weird," JJ said firmly.

"Huh," Emily said, shaking her head in wonder. "So, I know Rossi and JJ are together, and Morgan and Garcia are in a state of weirdness, and so naturally I have to ask, how're Hotch and Beth?"

Jack looked up from his coloring paper. "Daddy and Beth broke up. They don't like each other anymore."

Emily raised her eyebrows at the little boy. "Oh, yeah? When was that, buddy?"

Jack shrugged. "Two years ago."

"Four months," JJ stated, trying not to laugh at Jack's exaggeration. "She couldn't handle his work hours."

Emily grimaced and nodded. "Most people can't."

"Lord knows Will couldn't," JJ muttered.

"Jayje, don't say his name!" Rossi exclaimed, finally coming back into the cafe with Hotch, Reid, and Morgan, Emily's six suitcases in tow. She had sold most of her belongings in England before coming back to the States, determined to start over again. They stacked the suitcases next to their booth, and Morgan carefully placed Sergio's cat carrier on top of the pile.

Garcia leaned in towards Emily and stated, "Will's name is now the equivalent of Voldemort's," she exclaimed. "The name's taboo!" she added in an almost-believable English accent.

"They're being dramatic," JJ said, rolling her eyes. Rossi placed a kiss on her lips, and she smiled at him. Rossi slid into the booth beside JJ and took Henry onto his lap so that he, JJ, and Garcia sat on one side of the table, while Hotch, Emily, and Jack took the other side. Morgan pulled up a chair, and they all ordered their food.

As they were finishing up their dinner, conversation drifted to work.

"So, Em, how long until you come back to work?"

"Oh, um, Cruz... You like him?" she asked hopefully.

"He's a good guy," Rossi began.

"Not at all like Strauss," said Hotch.

"He's very laid back," said Morgan.

"He's a sweetheart," JJ exclaimed, earning a dirty look from her fiance.

"Good," Emily said and nodded approvingly. "He's putting the papers through. He told me it might be a few days, so I don't know if I'll be on the next case with you or not."

"You won't be," said Hotch.

"Oh, really? Did Cruz tell you something he didn't tell me?" Emily asked.

"No. I think it'd be better for the team if you sit the first one out. It'll give you time to move into your apartment and it'll give the team time to adjust to your presence."

"Okay, whatever works," Emily said, just happy to be home.

The team fell into a comfortable silence, each person picking at their dessert, not really hungry after the large late-night meal. Henry and Kendall had both fallen asleep, and as Jack began to nod off, Hotch said, "Maybe we should head out for the night."

JJ grabbed Rossi's wrist, glancing at his watch. "3 AM! How did it get this late? Your flight came in at eleven thirty!"

"Wow, is it that time already?" Garcia asked, glancing at her smartphone to confirm that it was indeed three in the morning. "Yeah, we should definitely head out."

Morgan and Garcia left first, Kendall in tow, after hugging everyone goodbye and promising to see each other the next day. JJ and Rossi left next, Henry's limp, slightly snoring form in Rossi's arms. Reid followed them out after a brief goodbye.

"Shit," Emily said just after they left, and then slapped her hand over her mouth, glancing at Jack. To her relief, he was sound asleep and hadn't heard her cursing. "My landlord is not going to let me into my apartment at 3 AM! I'll have to get a hotel room."

Hotch hesitated slightly before saying, "Don't worry about it, Prentiss. We have a guest room, you're welcome to spend the night at our place."

Emily hesitated. "Oh, no, Hotch. I don't want to intrude -"

"It's no intrusion," he said reassuringly. "We're friends, friends can help each other out. It's just one night."

"Just one night," Emily repeated in confirmation. "Alright, I guess that can't do too much harm."


	2. Chapter 2

It was 6 AM the next morning when Hotch woke up. Even on days when he didn't have to work, he couldn't seem to sleep in more than an hour after his usual wake-up time, 5 AM. He wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of hot coffee, stirred in the creamer, and went to sit in the living room and watch the news.

Unfortunately, Hotch wasn't used to having a cat in his home, and he accidentally sat on Sergio, who lept up with a loud, angry hiss and darted off back towards the guest bedroom, knocking Emily's purse off of the coffee table in the process. Its contents spilled out all over Hotch's living room floor.

Cursing, Hotch bent over, trying to gather all of Emily's things so he could shove them back into her purse and so she wouldn't think he had been snooping.

_How the hell does all of this fit in there? _Hotch thought angrily as he picked everything up and set it onto the coffee table. Sifting through the items, he found hand sanitizer, a miniature sewing kit, hair bands and bobby pins, aspirin, a miniature notepad, three pens, a book of matches, a compact mirror, three tampons, breath mints, mint gum, two of her favorite energy bars, her lipstick, a nail file, a tube of tums, sunglasses, a small calendar, her wallet, a bottle of clear nail polish, three band aids, a condom, a pack of Kleenex, mascara, a small brush, nail clippers, perfume, a rubber band ball, a box of paper clips, a miniature stick of deodorant, a small camera, an MP3 player, a toothbrush, a package of M&amp;Ms, a checkbook, stamps, hand lotion, a library card from London, her Interpol credentials and her old FBI credentials, both badges, a can of pepper spray, her PDA, a small pair of scissors, a small bottle of hairspray, a deck of cards, a screw driver, her cell phone and cell phone charger, a gun belt, a comb, a small half-full bottle of ginger ale, and a mostly-empty sleeve of Saltine crackers.

_Did Haley used to have this much crap in her purse?_ Hotch wondered as he picked up the last items, deciding he would let Emily put them back herself so it wouldn't be so much of a cluttered mess. He glanced at the clock - it was 6:32, church would be starting in an hour. He wasn't particularly religious, but Haley had been, and he felt he was serving her memory by taking Jack to church when he was home on Sunday mornings. He reluctantly got up and stretched, heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

Just as he began to shampoo his hair, he heard someone come into the bathroom. There was only one bathroom in the Hotchner household, so he and Jack never locked the door while in the shower so that the other could come in and get ready.

"Morning, buddy," Hotch said, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair.

Then he heard the retching.

"Jack?" he asked, concerned, poking his head out from behind the shower curtain. It wasn't Jack, however, that was in the bathroom with him. He watched in horror as Emily Prentiss knelt over the toilet, vomiting. "Prentiss? Are you okay?" he asked, immediately turning the water off and grabbing his robe from where it hung over the curtain rod, pulling it on. He stepped out of the shower and took her hair from her, holding it back as she threw up again. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

Emily finally leaned back hesitantly and flushed the toilet. Tears began to form in her eyes as she turned around and said, "God, Hotch, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be sorry," he said, immediately pulling her into his arms in a show of unusual compassion, "It's okay. Are you sick? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sick," she said, pulling away from his awkward hug and turning towards the sink to rinse out her mouth.

"Are you sure? I can take you to the doctor's if you want. You might have the flu or something..."

"No, Hotch, I'm really not sick," she repeated.

Then it dawned on him. The ginger ale and saltine crackers in her purse... a common cure for morning sickness...

"Emily..." he said gently, and she looked slightly surprised by his use of her first name, "Are you pregnant?"

She nodded, avoiding his gaze.

"Well, that's not a bad thing!" he said, happy for her, "Congratulations, Prentiss!"

"No," she said, turning towards him but not making eye contact, "It's a bad thing, Hotch. It's a very bad thing."

"Wha- why?" he asked. "You're not happy about it? Are you going to... get rid of it?"

"No, no," she said, wiping her tear away before he saw it, "I did that once and it was terrible. I'm never doing that again."

"Why is it a bad thing?" he asked, not showing any emotion. "Does the father know?"

"No, he doesn't, and he isn't going to," said Emily firmly.

"Why not? He deserves to know, Prentiss -"

"He does not."

He stared at her for a moment. "And why not?"

She stared at him for a minute, and then gave a shaky sigh. Looking away, she whispered "Ian Doyle is the father, Hotch."


	3. Chapter 3

"...Ian Doyle is _dead, _Prentiss," Hotch said after an intense staring battle that lasted at least three full minutes.

Emily rolled her eyes as though it was the stupidest thing that she had ever heard in her life. "Yeah. I wish." She turned to walk out of the bathroom, and Hotch followed her.

"Prentiss, I was _there._ I saw him die with my own eyes! There's no way he could've survived a bullet to the head -"

Turning around sharply to face him, Emily snapped, "Yeah, kind of like there's no way I could've survived a table leg to the stomach? It's not even that unusual to survive a head shot! Stranger things have happened, Hotch -"

"A stomach wound is different than a head wound, Prentiss. How could he possibly have survived that?"

"He has a metal plate in his head."

Hotch stared at her for a moment to ensure that she wasn't joking. When it became clear that she wasn't, Hotch cleared his throat, and hesitantly said, "Prentiss... Are you okay?"

A look of horror crossed her face as she realized what he was implying. "I'm not crazy, Hotch!" she declared angrily, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Well... Sorry for asking, but... You do realize how irrational this sounds?" he asked, a lump forming in his throat as he realized how incredibly awkward the whole situation was. Why had he invited her to spend the night?

She sighed, defeated, and sunk into his couch, pinching the bridge of her nose between her pointer finger and her thumb. "Yeah, I realize how irrational it sounds. But it's the truth! He had a brain injury when he was a kid, they put it in to make sure his skull didn't crack again or something. I swear to God, that's what he told me. I just didn't remember it until... well, until he was in my bedroom."

"Prentiss," he said gently, sitting down beside her, "...Emily," he amended, "Are you _sure _it was him? Positive?"

She let out a dry, sarcastic laugh. "Yes, Hotch. I'm sure. I did work undercover with the man for an entire two years, I think I'd know."

"And you're _sure _it was him?"

She looked at him and then back down at her bare feet, and whispered, "Trust me. If I could forget his face when he... when he was... If I could forget it, I would, Hotch." She stared at her toes for a few more minutes, her gaze distant as though she wasn't actually present in the room, but was reliving what Doyle had done to her during their last encounter. She shuddered, and Hotch tentatively put an arm around her shoulders.

She looked up at him in surprise, and then quickly bowed her head back down, not wanting him to see her tears. Prentisses were not supposed to cry. Ever.

"Emily," he said gently, pulling her into another awkward sideways hug - made even more awkward when he remembered he was still dressed in nothing more than a bathrobe - "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Well, yes. Actually... I don't know."

Hotch let his arm fall from her shoulders, and they sat together in silence for a few minutes, before he said softly, "I'm sorry to leave you like this, but I have to take Jack to church. Do you want to come with us?"

"No," she said immediately. "No, I, um, I told my landlord that I'd be at the apartment at eight. I have to pack up my things and, um, maybe shower here before I head out?"

"That's fine," said Hotch. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Emily smiled at him, obviously still upset, and said, "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Hotch. I really appreciate that."

"It's no problem," Hotch said, flashing her one of his dimpled smiles. She felt her lips involuntarily curve upward when he smiled at her: it was so rare an occasion, and she couldn't help but smile back at him.

Thirty minutes later, Hotch, Emily, Jack and Sergio were all ready to leave the house.

"Hotch?" Emily asked, just as Hotch was getting into the driver's seat of his car to leave.

"Yeah, Prentiss?" he asked, pausing with his hand on the door.

"I would appreciate it if... we could keep the whole, you know... Doyle thing... If we could keep it between us?"

He nodded. "Of course."

She smiled at him, genuinely this time. "Thanks."

"I'll see you tonight at Rossi's, right?" he questioned, making sure that she would still want to be around after her confession that morning.

"Yeah, I'll see you then," she said.

Hotch closed the car door and drove away, and he felt a twinge of sadness when he glanced into the rear view mirror to see Prentiss's slouched over, depressed form disappearing in the distance.

_What is this? _he asked himself, frowning slightly. _Sympathy, _the rational part of his brain decided. _Yes. You feel sorry for her, because she's in a bad situation. That's all. If it were any other member of the team, you'd feel the same way._

But there was another part of him, perhaps a smaller, quieter part, but a part nonetheless, that was laughing at him for thinking it was just plain sympathy. _Face it, _that part of his brain was saying, _You have feelings for Emily Prentiss._

_Feelings for Prentiss? _he thought, wrinkling his brow. _No. Can't be._

_And yet... Those feelings were definitely there._

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts away as he pulled into the parking lot of the church. _Just ignore those feelings, _the rational part of his brain said. _A relationship with Prentiss would be too complicated, and it would break the FBI fraternization rules. They could both lose their jobs. It wasn't worth it._

But he knew that this particular internal argument was far from over.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hi!" JJ squealed excitedly as she opened the front door of the cabin that she now shared with Rossi. Technically speaking, it was _not _a cabin. In all honesty, the fact that Rossi had the audacity to call it a cabin was disgusting. The building was huge, three stories tall and 6000 square feet, and had five full bathrooms and twelve bedrooms.

"Hey," Emily responded, looking around the foyer in awe like she did every time she came to Rossi's mansion. She could swear it got bigger every time she went in.

"Everyone is in the kitchen," JJ said cheerily. "You can take your shoes off there"- she pointed to a huge pile of shoes to Emily's left - "I'll take your coat."

"Thanks," Emily said, shrugging off her black trench coat. She always talked about buying a new coat - one that looked less "detective-y" as Garcia phrased it - but she never actually got around to it.

"Did you bring your swimsuit?" JJ asked.

"My swimsuit?" Emily asked, raising her eyebrows. "It's February, Jayje."

JJ smiled happily and said, "Oh, right, I forgot you haven't been here! We got a hot tub." "A hot tub?" Emily repeated, her eyebrows reaching up and together in concern. "Oh."

"Don't worry, you can borrow one of my bikinis," JJ said as she hung her friend's coat in the front closet. "Lord knows I can't fit into them right now."

Emily smiled after a slight hesitation, which didn't go unnoticed by her profiler friend.

JJ narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Emily.

_Shit._

"Are you okay?" JJ asked, genuine concern written over her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Emily said, placing the most neutral expression she could manage on her face. "Just tired from the flight and from setting up the apartment all day."

JJ stared at her for another moment, and Emily did her best to keep her expression neutral.

"Okay," JJ said dismissively, turning back towards the kitchen, where the playful bantering of the BAU team could be heard through the walls. "I'll let that go for now, but if I catch you being weird again you won't get off so easily," JJ declared, placing her hand on her back to support her hugely swollen stomach as she waddled towards the door, pushing it open.

A chorus of greetings rang out when the female agents entered the kitchen. Rossi stood at the oven, stirring a large pot of boiling noodles, wearing an apron that read "Baciare il Cuoco!" Morgan sat at the kitchen island with his giggling daughter on his lap, talking to Jack, who sat on the stool next to him, playing on his Nintendo DS and explaining the game to Morgan. Garcia sat on the other side of Jack, knitting what appeared to be a blue bootie for a baby as she talked with Rossi. The French doors connecting the kitchen to the dining room were opened, revealing Reid sitting at the dining room table with Henry on his lap, Ashley Seaver beaming at him, both talking to... Alex Blake.

Emily narrowed her eyes slightly at the appearance of her replacement.

What gave her the right to waltz in and take her place in this team? This was _Emily's family, _not hers!

Emily took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. After all, it was _her _decision to leave in the first place.

And what a stupid decision it had been.

That was probably one of the biggest mistakes she'd ever made in her life. Two long, miserable years she'd spent in a foreign country. Not that she wasn't used to foreign countries – hell, she spent most of her life in foreign countries. That's why it shouldn't have been so hard. She thought if she'd give it enough time, if she'd settle down, maybe find herself a man.

But no. Sergio was still the only long-term relationship she had with the other sex, and the two years she'd spent in rainy London were arguably the worst two years of her life. Each day was basically the same: go to work, do whatever, go home, be miserable and lonely, eventually fall asleep. Repeat. The fact that Doyle had found her in London hadn't really created the home-sweet-home feeling she was going for, either.

She was interviewing a family in their home when she decided she couldn't stay in London any longer. The family had ten adopted kids. Her decision was based on a magnet stuck to the family's refrigerator that read, "Family isn't whose blood you carry. It's who you love and who loves you back." Three weeks later, she was packed up and on her way back to the states, back to Quantico.

And here she was, in Rossi's kitchen, finally back with the people that she considered to be family, back in the city that was the first place she had ever truly felt like she was home.

And what was she doing about it?

Bitching that the team replaced her.

_Of course they replaced you, _Emily mentally scolded herself. _That's just business. It's not like she personally replaced you._

Emily glanced over at the new woman. Henry was now sitting on her lap while she talked and laughed with Reid. They certainly _looked _happy. Maybe they were glad she was gone. Maybe this woman - Dr. Alex Blake - maybe she was a better version of Emily. Emily two-point-o.

She began to feel the rage boiling again, and squeezed her eyes shut, taking another deep breath.

_Damn these pregnancy hormones, _she cursed.

Then she realized something.

_Everyone _was staring at her.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck! _Emily scolded herself. _How long was I standing here like an idiot? Don't just _stand _here, Emily! _SAY _something!_

"...Um..." she said, breaking out of her trance. She opened her mouth to say something else, and then slammed it shut again. _Nice, Emily. 'Um'. That'll throw them off. _"Sorry," she finally said, glancing from concerned face to concerned face of her team. "I'm just tired. From, you know, the plane."

"Oh," said JJ loudly, glancing around at the rest of their friends. "Yeah, that makes sense."

They still looked skeptical.

"Dave, is the pasta almost done?" JJ asked, trying to get the attention off of her friend. That apparently worked, because most of the agents looked away from Emily, either back to their conversations or towards Rossi, wondering if the food was almost done.

"Twenty minutes or so," he responded.

"_Twenty minutes!" _Morgan exclaimed. "Come on, man, I'm starvin' here!"

"Do you want it fast, or do you want it _gustosissima?_" Rossi asked, annoyed.

"What's gusto-what-a-ma?" Morgan asked.

"It's like... delicious," Emily said, translating Rossi's Italian for the team like in old times. They seemed to relax more after hearing her do something that she used to do, hopefully forgetting her previous hesitation. Pushing it to the back of their minds, at least.

Not JJ, though. She was still eyeing Emily suspiciously.

The kitchen door swung opened again, and Hotch entered the room. Pushing the door open behind him and busting into the room were JJ and Rossi's three dogs, Mudgie, Bachelor, and Chance. They bounded into the room, barking loudly and jumping up on everyone. Chance put her paws up on the counter, trying to take a large hunk of beef.

"OUT!" Rossi screamed, waving his knife around like a madman. "GET THE DOGS OUT OF MY KITCHEN!"

"Come _on, _Chance!" JJ scolded the recently adopted Doberman, grabbing her collar and dragging her towards the kitchen door. Suddenly JJ shrieked, let go of the dog's collar, and clutched her stomach.

"Jennifer!" Rossi shouted, concerned, dropping his spoon into the pot of boiling water and rushing forwards. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Yeah," JJ panted, giving a pained smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... Just a weird kick, or something. Don't worry, Dave. I'm fine. Really."

A buzzer went off, and Dave turned around to look at his pasta.

"_DAMN IT, CHANCE!" _Dave roared.

The pasta had been knocked off of the stove by the Doberman, noodles piled on top of her head, while she, Bachelor, and Mudgie enjoyed Rossi's fine Italian cooking.

"_OUT, OUT! BOTH OF YOU, OUT!" _Rossi roared. The dogs ran out of the kitchen, tails between their legs.

The team stared at Rossi, watching him fume for a few seconds.

"...Now what?" Garcia asked timidly, breaking the silence.

"I'll have to start over!" Rossi cried in despair.

"I'm ordering a pizza," Morgan said impatiently, whipping out his iPhone and dialing the nearest pizzeria.

"No, Derek, don't you dare -"

"-Dave-" JJ protested.

"-I am a fine Italian chef and I deserve to be -"

"Rossi, we _know _you're good at cooking. You don't need to prove anything to us -" said Alex.

"Pizza!" Jack and Henry cheered.

"We're _hungry, _Dave," JJ said, placing a hand on his forearm.

"No! We are not ordering a pizza! I called for a nice, home cooked meal, and -"

"DO Y'ALL WANT CHEESY CRUST ON THIS?" Morgan shouted, his phone away from his mouth as he shouted to the room.

"Chee-sy crust! Chee-sy crust!" the boys chanted, happy that they wouldn't have to eat pasta afterall.

Kendall began to cry, and Morgan tried to bounce her up and down on his hip while simultaneously ordering the pizza. Dave was still shouting about how it was an outrage to order pizza in such a fine Italian home while JJ and Hotch tried to calm him down.

"Did you know there are 5 billion pizzas sold annually around the world? 3 billion of those pizzas are purchased in the United States -"

"Shut up, Spence."

"YO BABY GIRL!" Morgan shouted, "I could use a hand over here!"

Garcia, who had been, up until now, recording the scene with her iPhone, quickly took the crying baby from Morgan and took her out of the room, accidentally letting the dogs back into the room.

"NO, BACHELOR!" JJ shrieked, making a move towards the Pekingese that was about to pee on Hotch's shoe. Hotch jumped out of the way just in time, landing on a toy car that had been forgotten during Henry's playtime. He tripped and landed directly on Emily's lap.

"Oof!" she squeaked as the air rushed out of her lungs. Hotch quickly stood up, brushing off his shirt.

"Prentiss, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, flustered. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Hotch, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

She glared at him, glancing quickly around the room to see if anyone had noticed. To her relief, Morgan was still on the phone, the boys were still cheering, Rossi was trying to get the dogs out of his kitchen, Garcia was still in the hallway, Blake was still sitting boredly at the dining room table, and JJ was...

_Shit._

JJ was staring straight at her, eyebrow raised, arms folded across her chest.

"Not here," Emily mouthed at her best friend. JJ narrowed her eyes, and then nodded her agreement.

"Okay!" JJ said loudly. "Everybody out of my kitchen! Out, out!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU DON'T DELIVER?" Morgan shouted into his phone. "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING. ALL PIZZERIAS DELIVER!"

"Actually, only 65% of pizzerias deliver -"

"SHUT UP, REID!" several people shouted at once, as JJ ushered them all out of her kitchen, preserving as much of Rossi's sanity as she could.


	5. Chapter 5

Two hours later, the pizzas were consumed, the baby put to bed, the boys watching Cars 2 in the in-house theatre in the basement, Rossi pouring wine for everyone ("At least the mutts didn't destroy everything") and JJ and Emily were upstairs in JJ's bedroom, digging through her dresser for her extensive collection of bikinis. She owned sixteen, all different colors. In fact, her bikini collection was almost as impressive as Garcia's pajama collection.

"So," JJ began, digging the last of her bikinis out of the horribly messy dresser drawer, "You going to tell me what's going on with you, or do I have to guess?"

Oh, I doubt you'd guess this, Emily thought, sighing. "It's really nothing important, Jayje."

"No?" JJ asked, raising her eyebrows. "It's obviously important enough that you missed out on what we were all expecting to be an impressive sarcastic comeback earlier."

"Aw, I missed out on that?" Emily said, laughing, hoping to change the subject. "What was this sarcastic remark supposed to be a comeback to, anyway?'

"Never mind that," said JJ, selecting a blue bikini out of the pile. "I want to know what's been on your mind."

"Honestly, Jayje, it's nothing."

"Em, I know you were gone two years, but do we really need to build trust again? I thought we were friends," she pouted.

"Oh, come on, Jayje, we are friends. Best friends. Remember?"

"Then tell me," JJ pleaded. "You know I won't tell anyone."

Emily sighed. "What do you want to know?"

JJ smiled, knowing she had won this particular battle. "Why were you staring off into space in my kitchen?"

"Oh, that?" Emily said, trying to brush her off. "That was nothing -"

"Jesus, Emily. For a profiler, you're awful at lying."

They stared at one another for a moment; it was a battle of wills.

Emily sighed. "Okay, I was just watching the new woman and being insecure about how I'll fit back into the team with her here."

"Aww, Emily, don't worry your pretty little head about that," JJ said, patting Emily's head. "Youll fit right back in, just fine."

"'My pretty little head?'" Emily repeated incredulously. "You sound like Garcia."

"It's the hormones, I promise," JJ stated. "God, Em, being pregnant really takes it out of ya. You have no idea.

"Also," JJ said, sitting back down on the bed beside Emily after she changed, "I want to know why Hotch was so concerned when he fell on you."

"I don't know," she lied, trying to keep her face neutral, "He felt bad, I guess..."

"Bullshit," JJ declared boldly.

"I cracked a rib on the job last month," Emily lied. "Couple of bullets to the vest. I had some meds for it in my bag, and when I stayed with Hotch last night, he found them on the counter."

"Oh," said JJ dismissively. After all, in their position, that story was completely believable. She'd just have to keep Garcia out of her medical records.

Why was she lying to JJ? she didn't really know. JJ was her best friend, and if she couldn't tell JJ, she couldn't tell anyone. JJ would support her and probably even give her advice. But she still couldn't bring herself to share that bit of information with the blonde.

She was lying to JJ, she realized, because she hasn't even come to terms with the situation herself! It was hard enough being pregnant with a monster's baby, without having the additional stress of being partially in love with said monster!

It was true, Emily Prentiss was in love with Ian Doyle. Yes, he was a terrorist, and yes, he was a murderer, but he was also a lover and a father.

And a damned good one at that.

She had been undercover with him for too long. She'd gone and done the unthinkable- developed feelings for the man. And the worst part was, she couldn't separate Emily Prentiss from Lauren Reynolds.

And that was a serious issue.

Sure, right off the bat, that was to be expected. But it should've gone away a few months after her mission ended. And at the time, it did. Lauren Reynolds was dead, after all.

But then Ian Doyle broke out of prison. Ian Doyle came back to her.

And so did a little piece of Lauren.

Then Emily Prentiss died. Medically. And they brought her back to life. But then she was hiding in Paris for those long seven months she was forced to pretend to be dead, hiding from him, away from her family. So it wasn't like Emily Prentiss was really alive.

Emily Prentiss officially came back to life the day that she returned to the BAU.

But she returned to protect Declan.

And that was the real problem. Because Emily Prentiss didn't have feelings for Declan. She had no more connection to him than a woman does to any child she passes on the street.

so why come out of hiding, why risk her life for that child?

Because the moment that she found out that Declan Doyle was in danger, the moment she got back to Quantico to help save that little boy, it wasn't just Emily Prentiss that came back to life.

Lauren Reynolds did, too.

And during her long two years in London, Lauren Reynolds had slowly faded away into the background of Emily's mind.

After all, Lauren Reynolds died a second time when Ian Doyle died.

And then Ian Doyle showed up in her bedroom in her house one rainy London day.

Emily was terrified, outraged, confused.

Lauren was ecstatic. And very much alive.

And when Doyle had... when Doyle had raped her...

Did at even count as rape?

Surely, Emily didn't want that. She fought back.

but Lauren was there, in the back of her mind. Enjoying it. Gladly moving in rhythm with whatever her lover had to offer.

Frankly, Emily wished he had just raped her. That would've been easier, after all. Not as much confusion going on. Straightforward.

But with Lauren around, nothing was ever straightforward.

And that's why Emily couldn't come to terms with her situation.

Emily was horrified about what had happened. Outraged that he'd taken her dignity like that. Terrified that he'd find her again, and kill her this time. He was a murderer, after all. And the baby, Emily thought it was a monster. How could it not be, with a father like that? She was disgusted by it.

Lauren fantasized about what had happened. Thrilled he'd come to find her. Hopeful that he'd see her again soon. He wouldn't hurt her, she knew. She was having his baby, and he really was such a good father. That baby was the best thing that ever happened to her.

And ugh, Emily thought, if these two conflicting personalities in my brain don't make me count as insane, I don't know what does.

"Em, which swimsuit do you want?"

Emily looked them over.

"Jennifer Jareau!" Emily scolded, looking at one swimsuit that had unicorns on the top, and the bottom was a thong. "What the fuck were you thinking when you bought that?"

"Not sure," JJ said, smiling now that Emily was acting more like herself. "I probably wasn't."

"I'll say," Emily muttered, laughing slightly and shaking her head.

"Here," JJ said, throwing her a T-shirt and a red bikini.

Emily caught the T-shirt and looked at JJ in horror, sure that her friend was just trying to help her cover her baby bump. How the hell did she know?

"How did you-" she began, cut JJ cut her off.

"You still like to keep that scar covered up, don't you? Or are you finally over that?"

Emily let out a sigh of relief; her secret was still safe for now. "Thanks, Jayje," she said, stepping into the bathroom to change.


	6. Chapter 6

Ten minutes later, Emily and JJ joined Hotch, Garcia, Morgan, and Rossi in the hot tub.

"Where'd everyone go?" JJ inquired, quickly stepping into the hot tub. Emily, shivering in the frigid air, quickly followed.

"Blake declined our hot tub invitation," Rossi said, looking slightly disappointed, "And Seaver got called in. Reid had to drive her to headquarters."

"Is he coming back?" JJ asked, looking slightly upset. It was no secret that Reid was her favorite member of the team - and that included her best friends and fiance. She had a sort of maternal soft-spot for him.

"I doubt it," Morgan said, sliding over to make room for Emily to sit next to him, "You know how much he hates driving in the snow."

"Is it still supposed to storm tonight?" Garcia asked, looking towards the sky. No stars could be seen; clouds were rolling in.

"It sure looks like it," Rossi commented, taking a sip of his wine.

"Seaver?" Emily questioned. Why would Reid be driving her around?

"Yeah," Rossi answered, sending a knowing look to the rest of the team. Morgan wiggled his eyebrows. "Ashley's car broke down yesterday, and Reid has been awfully helpful. This is a relatively new development," he said, his voice just barely tinged with sarcasm, "So we're all not sure what to think yet. But _some _of us" - he sent a pointed look to Garcia - "Think Reid might have a little crush on our good friend Ashley."

Garcia nodded enthusiastically and said, "He totally thinks she's adorable, isn't it obvious? I thought it was, I mean, before. Wouldn't it be cute if they got together? Oh, they'd make the prettiest babies-"

"-Okay, baby girl," Morgan said, rolling his eyes, "I think you're getting a little bit ahead of yourself. We haven't even decided if there's anything there yet."

"Just saying, chocolate thunder," she replied nonchalantly, taking another sip of her wine.

The team fell silent for a moment, and Emily took the opportunity to look around the hot tub at her friends, just to make sure they were all content.

Or to profile them.

You know, same difference.

Morgan sat immediately to her right, looking sexy-as-ever with no shirt on. Damn, that man had a nice body. Muscular arms, rock hard abs-

_Better look away before Garcia catches you looking_, Emily warned herself.

But really, Morgan seemed completely relaxed. His arm was casually thrown behind Emily's back, resting on the side of the hot tub, and in his other hand he held his glass of wine. He was laughing and talking to Rossi, who sat to his right.

Rossi was talking loudly and with his hands, like always, his glass of wine sloshing around as he used it to gesture something. He, too, seemed completely at ease.

Hotch sat across from Rossi. He wasn't relaxed like the others, though, he was just slightly tense, always alert, constantly vigilant. He had been that way ever since Foyet killed Haley. Sure, it had gotten better when Beth was around, but that speck of tension was always there. It probably always would be. Hotch was listening to the conversation that Morgan and Rossi were having. It appeared that they were talking about the upcoming March-madness basketball tournament.

Hotch was the only one in the hot tub who, like Emily, wore a T-shirt. That was something that they had in common - he had his scars from Foyet, and she had hers from Doyle, and neither of them wanted anybody else to see those scars. That was something Emily understood, something she could easily respect.

Garcia sat next to Hotch, giggling loudly for no apparent reason and draining the last bit of her wine - and if Emily wasn't mistaken, that was already her third glass. When she had finished draining it, she turned around to pour herself another glass from the bottle, which Rossi had foolishly placed within her reach.

JJ sat next to Garcia... _staring at Emily again. _

_Why _was JJ staring at her again? She wasn't acting strangely!

JJ's blue eyes sparkled with delight as they flicked from Emily to Garcia to Emily to Garcia. Emily questioningly followed the blonde's gaze to Garcia, and after a moment of staring, she gasped and then quickly slapped her hand over her mouth, glancing at Garcia to make sure that the technical analyst hadn't noticed her slip-up. Emily looked back at JJ, who was also trying not to laugh.

Garcia was wearing the same unicorn-covered bikini top that Emily had made fun of in JJ's room.

Which meant that...

_No, _Emily thought, _She wouldn't. _

It was very possible that Garcia was wearing a thong.

"Okay," Morgan declared, breaking into Emily's thoughts, "I'm bored. Let's play Truth or Dare."

Everyone groaned. Every time Morgan suggested the game, something bad happened.

"Fine, fine," he said, throwing his hands up in mock disappointment, "Let's play Would You Rather."

They all sighed. It was better than Truth or Dare, certainly.

"Fine," Rossi said for the group, "Who goes first?"

"Me, as always," said Garcia, who had finally stopped drinking wine. She looked around the group, stopping when her eyes landed on JJ. "Peaches," she addressed the other blonde, "Would you rather be a fairy living in a hollowed-out gumdrop, or be a unicorn living on a rainbow?"

"Um," JJ said, smirking at the drunken Garcia and stirring her glass of lemonade with her straw, "I'd rather... be the fairy, in the gumdrop."

Garcia seemed satisfied, and so they moved on, just as it began to snow.

"Hotch," JJ said, addressing their supervisor, "Would you rather... be able to fly, or be have super strength?"

"Super strength," he said immediately.

"Why?" Morgan asked, taking a swig of his beer (they ran out of wine), "You don't want to fly?"

"I don't know, Morgan," Hotch said, shrugging. "It's just a stupid game. Dave, would you rather... eat a worm, or an egg?"

Rossi shuddered, thinking about it. It was common knowledge among the group that Rossi thought eggs were the nastiest thing in the world - scrambled, sunny-side-up, easy-over, or hard-boiled, he went running for the hills whenever he saw any of them.

"I think I'd eat the worm," Rossi said. "I honestly do."

"Ewww," Garcia said. "That's, like, grody to the max."

They laughed at her word choice.

"Morgan," Rossi said, directing his attention to the man next to him, "Would you rather- damn it, woman, will you _stop _playing with that lemon!" - for JJ had been squeezing the lemon that was in her lemonade, and she had squirted some of the juice dangerously close to Rossi's eye - "Would you rather," he began again, as a devilish smirk grew on his face, thinking he had finally got Morgan in this stupid game, "Lick Garcia's armpit, or suck on her big toe?"

Morgan looked across the hot tub at Garcia and wiggled his eyebrows, saying, "Why not both?"

"Derek!" Garcia shrieked, splashing the hot water at his face, "Not here!"

Morgan, of course, splashed her back. And then she splashed him. And he splashed her. And soon, the finest behavior-analysis profiling team in the entire FBI was having a splash war in a very small hot tub in the middle of a snowstorm.

Water splashed everywhere; faces, eyes, mouths: there was no escape. Everyone was completely drenched in the steaming water within a few seconds, except Hotch.

No, their cool, collected unit chief would never do something so immature as to throw water into his subordinates' faces.

Morgan lunged over Garcia to dunk Hotch under. Both men went down, bringing Garcia with them.

And causing Garcia's entire glass of wine to spill into the hot tub.

And everyone froze.

Rossi was giving her the death glare.

"Woops," Garcia said cheerily, taking no notice of Rossi. "My bad! Cleanup on aisle eight!"

The team stared at Rossi for a moment, tense, noticing that the look in his eye made it seem as though he really _would _murder Garcia for spilling in his hot tub. He twitched in her general direction, and everyone lurched forward slightly as though to grab him.

He paused, however, when JJ's phone started ringing.

JJ frowned, confused, and reached for her phone, which was sitting behind her on the deck.

"Hello?" she answered, frowning slightly. She listened for a moment. "Yeah... No, that sounds - what?... Yeah, sure..." she sighed, "Okay. Yeah, that's fine. Sure. Bye."

She hung up the phone, sighing heavily, and turned towards the team.

"Well, guys, party time is over. We have a case."

Everyone looked extremely disappointed.

"Aw, man!" Morgan said, punching the surface of the water. "Damn these sons of bitches. I like to have my free time, too!"

"Where are we going, JJ?" Hotch asked calmly, having resurfaced.

"_You _all are going to Alaska," JJ said boredly, twisting the ends of her blonde hair around her fingers. "That's an eleven hour flight, so I'll be sitting this one out."

Since JJ was seven months pregnant with twins, it had been decided by Rossi that she was no longer allowed to attend cases with them that required her to be on a plane for more than five hours. The doctor agreed and so did Hotch and Cruz, so despite JJ's complaints, the rule had gone into effect.

"And I'm still staying back for this one, Hotch?" Emily asked, looking towards their Unit Chief.

"Yes, Prentiss, I think that'd be for the best," he said, looking at her as though to hint at the double meaning of his words.

Emily's eyes narrowed slightly, but her profiling friends were too preoccupied to notice.

"Damn it!" Morgan cursed, looking wildly around the deck. "We forgot the towels! It's freezing out here, man!"

There was a slight pause, one that would've normally been filled by one of Reid's statistics. The team looked at one another, somewhat startled.

"Wow, it's weird without Reid," Emily commented, amused.

"I hate winter," Rossi grumbled, climbing out of the hot tub and shivering.

"Em," JJ said, nudging her and glancing behind her at Garcia, who was so tipsy Morgan had to help her out of the hot tub. Emily turned around and, to her enormous relief, Garcia was wearing a simple black swim skirt, and not an ass-revealing swimsuit of any type.

"Oh, thank God," Emily whispered to her best friend, laughing for the first time in what felt like forever.

Rossi grabbed JJ's hand and helped her out of the hot tub. Emily followed her out, and then Hotch, everyone sprinting back towards the house, dripping wet, in the snowstorm.

When they got inside, water trailing behind them into the living room, they were all shivering. Rossi went to the closet to get the towels, while Morgan and Garcia and JJ crowded around the fire.

Emily stood in the doorway, the wet T-shirt clinging to her thin, shivering body.

Clinging a little bit too closely for her current situation, she thought, as she attempted to un-stick the fabric to her slightly-noticeable baby bump. She hugged her arms around her body, hoping it would be enough to hide the swelling from the observant eyes of her profiling friends.

Luckily, by the time Rossi returned with the towels and they all dried off and went to get dressed, no one had given Emily a second glance.

Or so it had seemed.

Truthfully, Morgan, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ all noticed, and Garcia probably would've, too, if she hadn't had so much wine.

Morgan had noticed while they were in the hot tub. Nothing major, he assumed, maybe she just ate a bit too much. A food-baby. She certainly looked slightly heavier than before, but hey, she'd been gone for two years and they were all getting older. It wasn't like she was fat now. Not even close. In fact, she looked to be a slightly healthier weight than when she had left. She was a bit underweight then, with all the stress and whatnot.

Hotch had, of course, known what he was looking for. He hadn't asked her how far she was - he hadn't asked her anything, really. He made a mental note to do so on the next occasion that he could get her alone. She was showing, but not much. No one without a trained eye would notice.

Rossi discovered it when he returned to the living room with stacks of towels for his soaked friends and saw Hotch staring at Emily's stomach. He was fairly certain immediately that she was pregnant, but hey, if she didn't want to say anything, that was her business. Upon a closer look, he decided that it wasn't _necessarily _pregnancy. But it wasn't like Emily to have gained weight. She ran every day and didn't ever have much of an appetite.

JJ, honestly, had noticed during dinner, before they ever went near the hot tub, before she had even asked Emily what was wrong with her. It made sense, after all. The random dazing, the slightly worried appearance, never truly being relaxed... It reminded JJ of when Doyle was around. But Doyle was dead, now (as far as she was concerned, at least), and so it had to be for some other reason. When she saw Emily's hand involuntarily rubbing her stomach, her suspicious were strengthened.

But maybe her friend wasn't pregnant. After all, JJ had flat out asked her what was wrong. She liked to think they were closer than that, that they wouldn't lie to one another about something as big as this. JJ made a mental note to talk to Emily tomorrow, while they were both left behind on the case.

For now, she had some phone calls to make.

Blake and Reid were none too happy to be called in at 2 AM. Neither was Jordan Todd, who was filling in for JJ when she didn't go on the cases, and would once again take over during her maternity leave.

And so, the reluctant team (including JJ and Emily and a drunken Garcia) stumbled into the Quantico FBI Headquarters an hour later, utterly exhausted despite the large amounts of coffee they all had consumed before reporting.


	7. Chapter 7

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: I see you people _way _too often," Morgan said, plopping down into his swivel chair in the round-table room.

"This is one of those times when I _really _hate my job," Rossi said, straightening the tie that he had reluctantly put on just minutes before as he sat down. JJ and Blake nodded in agreement.

Emily entered the room last, and abruptly stopped walking when she noticed that Blake was occupying the chair that had been hers for six years. There was no extra chair in the room, nowhere at all for Emily to sit down. She frowned slightly, standing awkwardly behind Reid, whose back was always to the door.

Everyone else, she noticed, sat in their usual places. Reid beside Rossi next to Hotch next to JJ next to Garcia next to Morgan next to... Blake.

She sure wasn't expecting all of this competition when she returned.

Honestly, though, it wasn't _really_ a competition, she tried to reason with herself. She was just making it into a competition. She wanted to prove to the team - to prove to _herself _\- that Alex Blake was not just an alternative version of her, even if they were both brunette, and had replaced one another. They were two completely different people.

And a wave of guilt washed over her as she realized that _of course _the team realized that they were two different people. They were _profilers, _for God's sake.

"Oh, Prentiss, we forgot to grab an extra chair -" Rossi began.

"I can run and get one," Garcia offered drunkenly.

"Take my chair," Hotch instructed her.

"No, no, it's fine," Emily reassured them. "I can stand, I'm not a cripple -"

"No, I insist," Hotch said, getting up and pulling the chair out for her. "I have to introduce the case, anyway."

Emily looked at him, unsure.

"Really," he said. "It's fine."

"Okay," she said, taking the place between Rossi and JJ. "Thanks, Hotch."

"Don't worry about it," he said, giving her a weak half-smile. JJ's eyebrow went up slightly as she glanced sideways at Emily. Morgan and Garcia looked at her strangely as well. She shrugged slightly, as unsure as them about the strangeness of Hotch's actions.

Hotch delivered the case with ease and perfection, as he always did. It wasn't an unusual case: prostitutes and drug dealers found shot execution-style in the wilderness outside of Juneau.

"Wheels up in twenty," Hotch added at the end, like always. Emily smiled a bit; some things never changed, and probably never would.

"My lovely ladies," Garcia called to JJ and Emily as they filed out of the round table room, the other agents grabbing their go-bags, leaving Garcia and Emily and JJ standing in the bullpen hallway. "You two can head out now."

"No," Emily said immediately, "No, we have to stay and help with the case."

JJ yawned hugely. "Yeah, I think we should stay, too."

"Nope," Garcia stated boldly. "I will not allow it! Emily, you had an eight hour flight yesterday, and JJ, you are seven months pregnant with my little pseudo nieces or nephews! I will not allow you to stay here. Go home and sleep. Now."

They looked at one another.

"You know, that might not be a bad idea..." JJ said, yawning again.

"Well I'm going to ..." Emily yawned, "Stay."

"Haha, yeah, no. You're going home, too, Gumdrop. It is three AM. Go home, and I don't want you back here until at least eight. Farewell, ta-ta, au revior, TTFN. Shoo!" she said, waving them out. JJ and Emily laughed at Garcia's demands and packed up their things.

JJ insisted on driving Emily home, since she didn't have a car yet and cabs were so expensive. They drove out in time to see the jet take off. JJ sighed as her blue eyes followed it across the sky and out of sight.

"You okay?" Emily asked, concerned.

"Yeah," JJ said, tearing her eyes from the sky and pulling out of the parking lot. "I'm okay. It just makes me nervous when they leave and I'm not with them and I'm not in the action and I don't know about the case right away and I don't know if they're hurt or in danger and... You know what I mean."

Emily nodded. After all, she had experienced the same sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when they left without her.

"That's not nothing, Emily!" JJ argued, her eyes sparkling with the prospect of finding out about Emily's personal life, as they stepped off of the elevator back into the third floor bullpen, at exactly eight-o'clock on the dot.

"It is, too, JJ. I'm telling you. It was a one-night thing."

"You don't do one night things, Em," JJ argued. "Come on, tell me! We're friends, remember?"

Emily sighed. JJ had arrived at her house at five thirty that morning to help her unpack some of her things, since both of them had been unable to sleep. JJ, who was nearly as snoopy as Garcia when in the right mood, had come across Emily's box of pregnancy tests, and had refused to drop the subject since.

"JJ, honestly. It was an old fling. It's not going to go anywhere, I promise."

"So you're not pregnant then?"

Emily opened her mouth to say something, and cocked her head slightly to the side. "No."

"Ladies!" Garcia greeted them, coming off of the elevator. "Are we having a gossip hour without me?" she asked, faking hurt.

"No, never, PG," Emily said, laughing. "We wouldn't do that."

"Well, what are we talking about, anyway?" Garcia asked, leading her two best friends down the hallway towards their offices.

"Well, we were just saying how -" Emily began, but JJ cut her off.

"Emily was just lying to me!" JJ said as she realized it, turning around to playfully slap Emily's arm as she finally put two and two together. "You are pregnant, aren't you!"

"What?" Garcia squeaked.

"What makes you think I'm lying?" Emily asked, feigning innocence and summoning a fakely-hurt expression.

"You tilted your head," JJ declared confidently, "You always tilt your head when you lie."

"Well, maybe, but sometimes I tilt my head when I'm not lying, too-" Emily began defensively, but then a wave of nausea overcame her, and she turned quickly and sprinted to the BAU lady's room.

When she finished vomiting, she scowled at herself in the mirror. So much for that secret, she thought, exiting the bathroom with her head hung in defeat.

"Bustedd," Garcia said happily, throwing her arms around Emily. "Congrats, Gumdrop!"

"Congratulations, Em," JJ said, hugging Emily after Garcia finished with her.

Emily smiled weakly at her best friends.

"Oh my God," Garcia stated, "My raven-haired beauty isn't happy. What's wrong, Sugarplum?"

Emily sighed. "It's so complicated that it's hard to even be excited about it."

"Is the baby-daddy in England?" JJ asked gently as they made their way towards the office area.

Emily considered this for a minute, and thought about lying, but decided against it. "I suppose he could be, yeah. I don't really know where he is."

JJ and Garcia looked at her skeptically.

"Do... do you want to talk about it?" Garcia asked hesitantly, sinking into Morgan's chair. JJ sat at her own desk, and Emily sat on top of it, since she no longer had a desk of her own. Her beloved desk was now covered in files and photographs that didn't belong to her. Her heart sunk lower.

"No," Emily said, giving her friends a sad smile. "I'd rather not, actually. Thanks, though. I appreciate that."

"Well... if you ever do want to talk..." Garcia said gently. "My door's always open."

"Mine, too," JJ mumbled.

It took Emily and Garcia about half a second to realize that something was wrong.

After all, Jennifer Jareau did not mumble. Ever. In fact, it was one of her biggest pet peeves.

"Jayje, are you okay?" they asked at the same time.

"Yeah," JJ said, breathing slightly more heavily than normal, "I'm fine. It's probably just false labor. It happened when I was pregnant with Henry, too."

Emily and Garcia watched their friend nervously as she gripped the sides of her chair, grimacing.

"Do you want me to call Rossi?" Garcia asked.

"No!" JJ exclaimed. "No, don't you dare, Garcie. You know how important these cases are. I'm not going to let him come home when people are dying just because of some stupid little contractions."

"Okay, okay, yeesh," Garcia amended, holding her hands up in front of her. "Let me know if I can get you anything, Peaches."

"I'm good for now, thanks, Garcia," JJ said, straightening up. "See? That only lasted, what, thirty seconds? I'm fine now. Really."

"Okey-dokey," Garcia said, pulling out her iPhone, which was ringing. "Hello, you've reached the technological princess of the BAU. Speak and be recognized." She turned to wink at Emily and JJ and then walked off in the direction of her office.

JJ turned to look at Emily and saw that she was pouting.

"What's wrong, Em?" she asked, immediately concerned.

"I don't have a desk," Emily stated, pointing towards Blake's desk.

JJ frowned slightly. "Well, pull up a chair and we'll share for now. I think with all the cases lately Hotch forgot to get your area set back up."

"You've had a lot of cases lately?" Emily asked, grabbing Reid's chair and dragging it over to JJ's desk.

"Yeah," JJ said, "Loads. We've had twenty-three in the past three months."

"Oh my God," Emily said, her eyes widening in surprise. "That's insane!"

JJ nodded her agreement. "Yeah, it's been busy. That's why Hotch and Beth broke up; she couldn't handle all of that."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment or two.

"So, how're you and Rossi?" Emily inquired.

"Great," JJ said. "He's such a softy, Em, it's hilarious. He and Henry are so cute together. Henry calls him 'Daddy'."

"Wow," Emily said, leaning back in her chair. "That's serious."

"Yeah," JJ agreed, a small frown appearing on her face as though she was deep in thought. "But it's good, we're good. Are there any... men in your life?"

Emily sighed, knowing that JJ was hoping to get the scoop on her baby-daddy now that Garcia was no longer around. That wasn't going to work, however, because they both knew if Emily hadn't said something in front of Garcia, she wouldn't say it behind her back, either. JJ was thinking wishfully.

"Nope," Emily said plainly, putting an extra pop on the 'p'. "I'm forever alone."

"You are not," JJ said, laughing lightly. "Your problem is that you're too good for everyone. Or maybe it's that they're all afraid you're going to kick their asses."

Emily laughed. "Yeah, that's the problem. I'm too scary."

"How far along are you?" JJ asked, her gaze dropping to Emily's abdomen. "You're not really showing that much."

"Fifteen weeks," Emily said, her hand resting on her stomach as if she was protecting the little bump from her best friend's gaze.

JJ gasped and clutched the chair again as she had another contraction. Emily raised her eyebrows questioningly, which went without notice until JJ's eyes popped back open a minute later and she again relaxed in her chair.

"Okay, I'm no expert here, but that doesn't seem normal," Emily said worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine!"

"How many weeks are you?"

"Thirty four," JJ responded immediately.

"When did your contractions start?"

"Last night, when the dog jumped on me-"

"-How far apart?"

"Look, Em, I'm not trying to be rude, here, but you're a first time mother and I don't think you really know everything -"

"JJ, answer the damn question, because it's pretty obvious that you don't actually think this is false labor. You just don't want to go to the hospital because the team isn't here."

"Don't profile me while I'm in labor, Emily!" JJ said defensively. "That must be in violation of the BAU Girl-Code!"

The BAU Girl-Code were the laws that all female members of the BAU must follow at all times, without exception. To the men of the BAU, it was somewhat of a legend, something they had heard of countless times but had never actually laid eyes on, something that, when it was mentioned, someone was seriously in danger. When it was mentioned, one of the girls was most certainly pissed off, and as a result, the men avoided all of them until further notice.

To the females of the BAU, the code was... well, it was law. You couldn't break the code. It simply wasn't done. It was 47 pages of 146 rules written by Emily, JJ, and Garcia on scented purple paper for their eyes only, and it was stored in a pink binder in a secret hiding place that only the three of them knew the location of, a place which cannot be written here because of its top-secrecy.

Emily gasped in mock horror. "Jennifer Jareau, are you accusing me of breaking the code?"

Suddenly, Garcia appeared out of nowhere with the familiar pink binder in her hands.

"WHO BROKE THE CODE?" she roared.

"Emily!" JJ shouted, at the same time that Emily squealed "Not me!"

"Now, now, Sugarplum," Garcia said, as though trying to keep them both calm, "Let's just open up the book and see what the issue is, okay?"

Each rule had a punishment. The person that had not broken the code or had the code broken against them was always the judge, and issued punishment as they saw fit.

Garcia flipped open the binder to the index. "What seems to be the issue, my pretties?"

Agent Anderson happened to be walking through the bullpen at that exact moment. Garcia shrieked and snapped the binder shut, gave him a look that could kill, and tossed her hair over her shoulder, and stomped off towards the girl's bathroom.

Emily and JJ looked at each other and stood up, ready to follow her.

It was probably wrong, but they used the handicapped stall as their secret meeting room.

"Fuck," JJ squeaked, clutching her stomach and sinking back into the chair as her water broke.

"Garcia!" Emily shouted, and Garcia's blonde head popped out of the bathroom. When she saw JJ's face crumpled in pain she came running out of the bathroom.

"Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod!" Garcia squealed. "Are you okay? I'm calling Rossi -"

"Where are your keys?" Emily demanded, jerking JJ's desk drawer open to find her purse. She dug through it and found the car keys. "Alright, let's go! Garcia, hurry, call him on the way -"

Garcia scowled. "I can't come, someone has to hold down the fort! They'll be landing in two hours -"

"-Tell Dave not to come back!" JJ demanded. "He'd better stay on that case, I can take care of this myself -"

"Call me immediately when something happens!" Garcia demanded as Emily used JJ's swivel desk chair as a wheelchair, pushing her best friend into the elevator.


	8. Chapter 8

A short (or long, according to JJ) three hours later, Emily had gone to get Henry and they were both back at the hospital, ready to meet the twins for the first time. Emily had pulled Henry out of his Kindergarten class, and he was bouncing up and down with excitement during the entire span of the half-hour drive.

"How big are they, Auntie Emmy?" he asked for the third time.

"They're very little, Henry," she said patiently, happily watching the younger boy as she helped him out of his car seat and they began to walk towards the hospital, hand in hand. "They won't be big enough to play with you for awhile."

"Is it brothers or sisters?" he asked surprisingly for the first time, turning his big blue eyes up towards Emily.

"Two baby boys," Emily responded happily as they walked down the long maternity ward hallway.

"What are their names? Where is Mommy? Where is Daddy? Where are my... my brothers?"

Emily laughed and hoisted Henry up onto her hip, wondering how much longer she'd be able to lift him up before her stomach got in the way. She planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Why don't you just ask your Mommy yourself? Are you ready to go in and meet your baby brothers?"

Henry nodded enthusiastically, and Emily swung the door opened, carefully catching it before it could bang against the wall so that it didn't wake the babies, or JJ, if they were sleeping.

"Mommy?" Henry called as Emily put him down, gently shutting the door behind her. The six year old ran to the edge of JJ's bed and peered up at the bundle in her arms.

"Hey, buddy," JJ greeted her oldest son happily as Emily lifted him onto the bed. "This is your brother, Alexander."

"Hi," Henry said shyly to Alexander, trying to see him better. JJ shifted the baby so that Henry could see him better.

The smile that lit up Henry's face was enough to make JJ's heart melt.

"He's so little, Mommy!" Henry said happily. "And cute!"

"Where's Lucas?" Emily asked. Lucas was the younger twin. Alexander David and Lucas Aaron Rossi were the two boys' names that JJ and Rossi had managed to agree upon several weeks before.

"The nurse took him to change his diaper," JJ responded as she carefully propped Henry's arms up with a pillow so that he could hold his brother.

A moment later Alexander began to cry, quickly followed by Henry, who thought he had done something to hurt the baby. JJ quickly pulled the newborn away from her kindergartner, assuring him that it wasn't his fault and that babies cried all the time. JJ was feeding Alexander when the nurse came in with Lucas.

JJ asked Henry if he would like to hold the other twin, and he flatly refused, so the younger child was handed to Emily.

"Hi, baby boy," Emily cooed to the child, who had Rossi's Italian skin tone and his mother's bright blue eyes. She gently rocked the baby back and forth, and he curled his fist around her thumb. _What would this baby look like, with her big brown eyes, and a patch of blonde curls from Ian on top of his head -_

_Stop it, _Emily scolded herself.

"It amazes me how you can claim to be not maternal," JJ stated after observing her friend with her youngest son for a few minutes.

"Oh," Emily said, looking up. "I, um... I don't know."

"You'll be a good mom," JJ assured her friend. "You're really great with Henry and Jack and Kendall and Al and Luke."

The ringing of JJ's phone saved Emily from having to answer.

JJ answered it, happily answering all of her fiance's questions about their new children, while demanding that he remain at the case. He already missed the birth, she reasoned, what was the point in coming back now? He'd meet them when he got back.

And Al was still in JJ's arms, and Henry was happily watching cartoons, and Luke was dozing off in Emily's arms, and so she was left alone with her thoughts.

Which was just about her least favorite past time.

"Hey, Jayje?" Emily said, breaking the silence as she glanced at her wristwatch. "I should head back to the office, it's almost two and I want to see how the case is going."

"Ok," JJ said, yawning. "I'm going to take a nap, anyways. Do you mind bringing Henry back to the daycare?"

"Yeah, sure," Emily said, placing Luke into his mother's arms and hoisting her huge purse up over her shoulder. "C'mon, Henry."

Two days later the case was finally over. Emily, Garcia, Jack, Alexander, Henry and Kendall were waiting for the return of the team with glasses of pink lemonade and a bottle of scotch and a batch of freshly baked cookies. Henry was drawing a picture with a red crayon, Jack was doing his multiplication tables, Garcia was playing peek-a-boo with Kendall, and Emily was pacing back and forth across the bullpen and gently rocking Alexander. JJ was in Garcia's lair trying to get Lucas to stop crying.

Everyone jumped at the sudden _ding _of the elevator, announcing that their family was home at last.

Hotch's arms were around Jack almost immediately as they flashed their identical dimpled grins. Rossi scooped Henry up into his arms and was giving him a bear hug. Morgan called out "Where are my baby girls?!" and Garcia threw herself at him with Kendall in her arms. Reid had a glass of the pink lemonade in his right hand, while Henry jerked on his left, telling his godfather something that had happened in his kindergarten class the day before. Blake was on the phone, talking to her husband.

"I have a delivery for Mr. Rossi," Emily said with a wink, walking over to him with the baby. His face lit up immediately as he laid eyes on his son for the first time.

"And this is..?"

"This is Alexander David," Emily said, carefully handing the baby to his father.

"Hi, buddy!" Rossi cooed to the baby as Emily stepped back, allowing the team to crowd around them. JJ entered the room then, and they crowded around her as well. Soon the babies were being passed around between Blake, Morgan and Reid, and after a brief whispered conversation, JJ and Rossi turned, beaming towards the group, to announce who would be the boys' godparents.

Rossi was now holding both of the sleeping babies, so JJ, clapping her hands together, announced, "We would like Hotch and Emily to be Luke's godparents?" she asked them, looking hopeful.

"Yay!" Emily squealed happily, reaching out for her godson and taking him into her arms. She turned towards Hotch to allow him to play with their godson as well, and when she looked up towards him, he had an amused look on his face. Emily raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Hotch said, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he flashed another dimpled smile at her. "Now give me my godson!" he said, snatching the baby from a confused Emily.

"And we want Morgan and Blake to be Alexander's godparents," JJ said.

"Oh yeah, I got myself a Baby Boy!" Morgan cheered.

"Me? Really? Aww, thanks!" Blake said with a smile as Morgan took Alexander from Rossi. As soon as he saw that his father's hands were now empty, Henry reached upwards and Rossi scooped his eldest son into his arms.

Hotch's cell phone began to ring a moment later, and he handed Luke back to JJ and excused himself.

Garcia yawned hugely. "Well, not that this isn't fun and all, but I think we're going to have to head out soon. This Baby Girl is getting tired."

"Yeah, I'm going to head out, too," Blake said, grabbing her purse off of her desk and pulling her car keys out of her top desk drawer.

"We'll see you tomorrow," Emily said, yawning.

"Don't unpack," Hotch said, returning to the bullpen with a frustrated look on his face.

"_Aaaawwwwww,_" Garcia half-whined half-shrieked, stomping her foot furiously. "Don't these unsubs understand that we have _lives? _That we need to _sleep _once in awhile?"

"Calm down, Sweetness," Morgan said, planting a kiss on Garcia's forehead. "It's all in a day's work."

"Prentiss, do you have your bag packed?"

Emily looked slightly surprised. "Oh, um, yeah. I do."

"You're coming with us, then. Wheels up in twenty, we'll brief everyone on the way there. Rossi, are you hanging back?"

"Yeah," Rossi said, putting his arm around his fiance's shoulders. "I'm off for the next four weeks, remember?"

"Right," said Hotch. "We'll see you when you get back, then." He walked off.

"Momma?" Henry whispered softly as he stirred from his sleep.

"Yeah, baby?" JJ asked, turning towards her son, who was lying on Rossi's desk.

"Can we go home now?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," JJ said, looking towards Rossi. "Let's head home. Have fun, you guys."

"Yeah, right," Morgan said.

JJ shrugged. "As much fun as you _can _have while tracking down murderers, I guess."

"JJ, Rossi, do you mind taking Jack back down to the daycare? Jessica can't pick him up for a few more hours."

"He can come with us," JJ said. "She can pick him up from our place."

"Yeah, sure," said Rossi, gently shaking the third grader out of his sleep. "Come on, Buddy."

"Aww," Jack moaned. "Why d'you always have another case?"

"I'll call Aunt Jessica and tell her to pick you up as soon as possible, okay, Jack?"

"Okay," he mumbled tiredly, grabbing his backpack as JJ and Rossi went down the elevator with the four boys and Garcia and Kendall in tow.

And just like that, with all of the children out of the room, the agents of the BAU were back in business mode.


	9. Chapter 9

It was ten thirty and the jet was gliding silently through the jet black sky, shifting smoothly in and out of large, fluffy grey clouds. Emily and Morgan were the only ones still awake; Morgan lying on his back with his ankles crossed and his head resting on his hands, while Emily sat across from him at the table, her sleeping area having been taken over by Blake. She tapped her long dark red fingernails on the table as she watched the city lights on the ground appear and disappear in the darkness.

"Prentiss," Morgan whispered to the dimly lit cabin.

"Yeah?" Emily asked softly, turning to face him.

"You mind quitting that tapping? I can't sleep."

"Oh, yeah, sorry!" she said, folding her hands on her lap and turning back towards the window.

Morgan chuckled.

"What?" she asked, smiling slightly as she turned towards him again.

"It's just, the first time you actually _have _fingernails, you go on tappin' them like there's no tomorrow."

Prentiss let out a dry laugh. "Yeah."

They fell into a comfortable silence, which was soon interrupted by Morgan's snoring.

Emily turned to look at her team. So much had happened in the two years when she had been gone, and it almost seemed like she'd never be able to catch up with them.

She looked at Reid, who had his chair leaned all the way back, his head leaned sideways and his mouth wide open. Could he really be thirty-four? That just didn't seem right. Reid was supposed to be their little brother, the kid of the group. The kid was all grown up now. He had frown lines on his face, worry lines on his forehead. And - she squinted through the darkness - were those _grey _hairs on his head? Even Emily herself didn't have grey hairs. Well, maybe she did. She was still dying her hair black, probably more often than she should.

She looked over to where Morgan was now asleep and smiled at his bald head, feeling a twinge of pride at his new father-status. She could hardly believe that he had finally settled down, but she had to admit, she was glad he and Garcia had finally given each other a chance. She made a mental note to ask Garcia how their relationship started - and ended(?), and planned on demanding as many details as the technical analyst could remember. She was happy for the pair of them, but the whole situation with Savannah and Kevin was sure weird.

She examined Hotch next. He looked so relaxed and peaceful in his sleep, free of the worries and horrible images that filled his brain during the day. She smiled a little while she watched him, his mouth opened slightly as he softly snored. _That is so cute_, she thought. Then she scowled at herself. What the hell was she thinking? Hotch, cute? He was her boss, for crying out loud! But still... she thought as he smiled slightly in his sleep, causing one of his dimples to appear... he was pretty damn cute. How the hell hadn't she noticed that before? Then she shook her head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. Even if Hotch was fucking adorable, he wouldn't want anything to do with Emily. She was his subordinate, she was not exactly emotionally stable at the moment, and she was pregnant with a monster's baby.

She sadly tore her gaze away from Hotch and her eyes went over to where Alex Blake lay asleep, on the right booth seat, where she had slept for seven years, right across from JJ's space.

She sighed heavily, leaning her head against her palm. Everything had changed. The family dynamics were completely different than that had been when she left. Her 'sister' and her 'brother' had a baby together' and her other 'sister' was with her 'uncle' and the 'father' of the team was suddenly looking very attractive... the 'baby brother' was clearly no longer a baby in any way. And now, with Blake here, it just seemed like she'd never be able to find her footing again.

She hadn't even realized that she was crying until she felt a comforting hand rubbing her back. Wiping the tear off of her cheek with the back of her hand, she looked up and was surprised to see Blake standing over her.

"Do you want to talk?" the older woman whispered, looking concerned.

No! shrieked Emily's instincts.

But before she could even acknowledge those instincts, she heard herself squeak "Okay."

Blake tilted her head to the side, indicating that they should go into the other room so as not to wake the other profilers. Emily stood up and followed the older woman out, and then sat cautiously beside her in the plane chair.

"What's bothering you, Prentiss?" Blake asked.

"Honestly?" Emily asked, raising her eyebrows.

Blake nodded, and Emily sighed. _To tell the truth or not to tell the truth_, she thought dryly. _Oh, what the hell. What not just get it all out there_.

"I'm coming onto this job off of the shittiest two and a half years of my life, which is seriously saying something. Three and a half months ago the man I'm most afraid of in the entire world came to my flat in London and raped me, which was even more shocking because I saw him take a bullet to the head three years earlier and believed he was dead. I'm pregnant with his child now, and I'm not sure how to feel about it because I hate this man with a passion but at the same time, it's not really the baby's fault, you know?

"And what's worse was I met this man while I was undercover for Interpol and he's a terrorist, and I was undercover for two years as his girlfriend and at first it was all acting but then he was so sweet and I fell in love, and I got over all of that but now that I'm having his baby all of those feelings are coming back, and I'm just so conflicted about the whole thing and I'm scared because he's still out there and I don't know if he'll try to find me again.

"So I came back to Quantico looking for some familiarity and comfort and guidance from my family only to find out that everything is different because everyone is in different relationships and the roles have changed because of that, and it's hard to know how to act with everyone. Also I don't want them to know I'm pregnant because they'll press for details, and if I tell them the truth they won't believe it, but it's hard to hide because I'm always sick and tired and I'm starting to show and I can't stop touching the damn bump. I mean, I bet most of them already know - you know how hard it is to keep secrets from them. Hotch and JJ and Garcia already know and I really, really can't tell Morgan because he'll flip out and try to find Doyle and kill him and I'm not sure I want that either. Also Doyle has a son that who is eleven and my friend was raising him but now he's getting a job offer he can't turn down in Afghanistan and he can't take Declan with him, and so if I don't take him, he'll go into foster care. I raised that boy for two years and I feel like I'm his mother, or I used to be, so I'm at least partially responsible for him and if he goes into foster care, I feel like he doesn't even have a chance at life. I love him to death but I can't imagine trying to raise a baby alone with this job and being gone all the time and I don't want to pull another child into that. And honestly another issue is just that you're here now and I'm not sure how that is going to affect me. I don't know if you replaced me in the family, and if you did I don't know how to earn my place back."

By the time that she was done with that rant, her face was beet red from embarrassment and lack of oxygen, and tears were streaming down her face.

At that moment, the pilot's voice came over the speaker and announced, "We will be landing in Milwaukee in five minutes. Please fasten your seat belts and prepare for descent."

Blake looked towards the front of the jet and scowled.

Emily looked up at her, pulled out of a sort of trance as though she had just realized what happened and she was terrified that she had just spilled her heart out to a near stranger.

Emily sighed, embarrassed, and rolled her eyes at how ridiculous she was being. "Sorry, I'm not usually this emotional- or trusting - it's the hormones. I didn't mean to tell you my life story-" She began to get up to move back into the cabin with the rest of the team.

"Hey, Prentiss, wait one minute," Blake said kindly, reaching for her go-bag. "Here," she said as she handed her makeup bag to the younger woman.

Emily gratefully took the bag from the other agent and began dabbing away the black streaks on her face, and reapplying her mascara and eyeliner. She put the items back into the little black bag and zipped it up, handing it back to Blake.

"Thank you," Emily said, her voice cracking slightly.

Blake wordlessly handed her a bottle of water, and Emily took a few sips, realizing that she actually felt much better having got all of her problems and fears off of her chest. She gave Blake a watery smile, and whispered, "Thanks."

"Any time you need anything at all, you just let me know, alright?"

She nodded, smiling slightly shyly at the newer agent. She felt a wave of gratitude wash over her, mixed in with her previous feelings of resentment.

Blake zipped her go-bag and pulled it over her shoulder. She turned to face Emily. "You know, Prentiss, I didn't replace you. They wouldn't allow that to happen; they adore you. I merely joined a family that you are still very much a part of."

Emily blinked once or twice, not exactly sure how to respond.

"I'm just letting you know," Blake continued, "This isn't a competition or anything. We are two different people and the team recognizes that, and I wouldn't dream of trying to take your place away from you."

"Thank you," Emily whispered again quietly. "That's all I'm asking."

"I know," Blake said seriously. Then a smile appeared on her face. "Come on," she said, motioning towards the cabin. "We'd better get in there before it starts getting bumpy."

She let Emily pass before her into the cabin. Emily smiled appreciatively, and Blake whispered, "Do you want to talk again tonight?"

"Alright," Emily agreed quietly.

The older agent smiled, got up, and began to wake the rest of the team.

Emily watched Blake carefully, profiling each soft whisper and gentle shake served to wake the team. Then it hit her, and she smiled slightly. Blake's role in the team was nothing like hers.

And Blake so clearly fit her role that Emily wondered how she hadn't seen it before. Blake's role was one that the team had never filled in all the time Emily had been with them.

She was absolutely, without a doubt, the team's mother.

And with that knowledge, Emily's own role in the team gained a little more definition. And the team unity increased tenfold.


	10. Chapter 10

"Yeah... yeah... yeah, Baby Girl, we're boarding the plane... we'll be home around ten thirty. Yeah baby. Put her on! Hey Kendy-Boo," Morgan cooed into his iPhone. Emily rolled her eyes, laughing, and got onto the plane.

The case in Milwaukee had gone relatively well, the woman and two children saved before the unsub could kill them. Hotch was pleased with the results, and it seemed like mixture of agents was starting to learn to work with one another, as Emily and Blake began to form a bond and to grow to like one another. They had been gone for two days and were now returning to Quantico.

Emily was settling into her seat in the plane - the old one - when Hotch came up to her.

"Prentiss, can I speak to you in private?" he said, scowling at her in an almost concerned manner.

"Um, yeah, sure," she said, unbuckling herself and following him into the cabin of the plane where she and Blake had talked on the way there.

The moment the door shut behind them, Hotch turned his gaze towards her.

"Are you okay?" he demanded.

"Wha- Hotch, I - What are you talking about?" she sputtered, completely flustered. _Blake ratted me out, didn't she? Ugh, I _know _I shouldn't trust people-_

"I'm talking about when you were on the phone for an hour and it made you late to a witness interview! I mean, I don't know what your side of the story is, but it didn't really look good on our part, and I'm afraid that Cruz is going to be -"

Hotch was quite surprised when he looked up to see Emily trying to keep the tears from spilling over.

"Emily, I-" he began, not sure what to apologize for. He hadn't been _that _harsh, had he?

"-No, you're right, I shouldn't have t-taken a personal call d-during work -"

"Was it an important call?"

"-I'm sorry, Hotch, I promise it won't happen again-" she rambled on.

"Prentiss, was the call important?" he repeated with more force. "Because if it was, it's fine if you take it during work hours -"

She looked slightly surprised. "Oh, um, it was important - I was talking to the adoption agency - but I mean, it c-could've waited, and I'm sorry -"

"You're giving the baby up?" he asked, surprised, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I'm wha- no!" Emily said, one hand protectively dropping to rest on the bump as the other wiped the remainder of the tears away, "No. I couldn't do that- I'm trying to adopt Declan."

Hotch's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Doyle's son, really? I thought your friend was raising him."

"He was, but he's m-moving to England for some new job opportunity, and Declan has been calling me and asking about it every day since he heard I was moving back. He d-doesn't want to have to switch schools and -"

"You don't have to justify anything to me, Prentiss," he said gently, still mentally kicking himself for taking out a bad day on her. "If it's what you want, then go for it. How old is he now, anyways?"

"He just turned eleven," she said, smiling slightly through her tears. Then the smile disappeared. "God, Hotch, I don't know how I'm going to be able to handle him and this job and Bean all at once -"

A look of amusement was slowly creeping onto Hotch's face.

"What?" Emily asked, furrowing her brow, trying to recall what she had just said. _Declan and the job and Bean... oh. _

_Shit. _

Her face turned a shade of bright red as she realized what she had just let slip. "Bean" was her affectionate nickname for the baby - after all, she couldn't just go around calling it "it" or "the baby" all the time - but she hadn't actually mentioned said nickname outloud yet. To anyone.

So accidentally revealing it to her boss moments after being scolded wasn't exactly the most comfortable situation in the world.

"Sorry," she said for what felt like the thousandth time that day, "That's just what I've been -"

"Calling the baby?" Hotch finished her sentence, his eyes twinkling happily although the smile didn't touch his mouth, "That's cute. I like it."

Emily smiled unsurely at him, her heart rate picking up. He was seriously cute, but was it just her, or were his moods almost as unstable as hers?

Hotch's heart began to race as well. "Listen, Prentiss, I was thinking we should sit down and talk about your whole... situation."

"I completely agree," she said quickly, trying to avoid eye contact with him.

"I'll take you out to lunch when we get back?" he asked, feeling oddly like he had when he had asked out the prettiest girl in middle school. _This isn't a date, _he reminded himself. _This is a conversation about her well being. _

"I- yeah, sure," she said, flashing him a genuine smile and allowing her gaze to meet his for a moment, while she felt a blush creep onto her face.

_Damn you, physiological reactions. _

"Sounds like a plan. We'd better get back in there before they get worried."

She followed him back into the cabin with the rest of the team.

But the fluttering feeling in her chest didn't go away.

And it didn't for the next few hours.


	11. Chapter 11

That fluttering was almost painful when, four hours later, Hotch pulled into the parking lot of her favorite Chinese takeout restaurant and held the door for her as they walked in.

They slid into a booth across from one another, and a woman came to take their order. They sat in silence waiting for the food to come, both slightly uncomfortable.

"So..." Emily began awkwardly. "You wanted to talk to me about what, exactly?"

"I need to know about your life now," he said. "You've obviously been through a lot since you left, and I want to make sure that you're still going to be able to do this job. Especially when you're suddenly thrust into the position of mother of two."

"I- oh," Emily said awkwardly. "Um, well..."

"Start with Doyle. Tell me exactly what happened when he found you."

Emily attempted to say something and then shut her mouth. Three times. While turning a deep shade of red from embarrassment.

"You don't have to tell me everything," Hotch said suddenly. "I mean, I get it if you don't want to talk about..."

"Um, okay," Emily said. "Well, I was sitting in my flat. It was, maybe, ten thirty? I was watching some soaps in my bedroom, and I had left the kitchen window opened because Sergio was outside. I was in my pajamas curled up with a bowl of popcorn and it started to rain, so I went into the kitchen to call for Sergio but the window was shut and he was scratching at it trying to get in." Emily was talking faster and faster, her gaze far away, as she relived her latest nightmare. "I let him in and then I went back up to my bedroom and shut off the TV and then I went into my bathroom to do whatever and when I came back out he was sitting on the bed and- Hotch, I _really _don't want to talk about this..." she whispered, clearly beginning to panic.

"You're doing fine," he reassured her. "This is important. You know that as well as I do. Did he say anything to you?"

She frowned, trying to remember. "He said 'Hello, Lauren' and I remember I screamed and tried to get out of the room but the door was somehow stuck shut and my gun was in the safe downstairs so that didn't help. Then I said something about him being dead and he said 'You're not the only one that can come back from the dead, love' and then he... he-"

At that moment, the waitress brought their food, and Hotch let the conversation drop. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

"Then what, Emily?" he asked gently. She looked slightly surprised at his rare use of her first name.

"Then... after all of that... I don't know. He just left."

Hotch raised an eyebrow. "He just... left?"

Emily nodded, twirling her fork around in her food, her appetite gone.

"Did he say anything before he left?"

"No," she said.

"He didn't threaten you?"

"No. He just... went. I haven't seen him since."

He sat in silence for a minute, pondering this. "Do you want us to find him?" he asked.

"No. Yes. I don't know," she said. "I don't want to have to be looking over my shoulder 24/7."

"Do you think he's watching you?"

"No," she answered without hesitation.

"You seem fairly sure."

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here. And I wouldn't be having his baby, and I wouldn't be adopting Declan."

"You don't think he'd let you do that if he knew?"

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Why do you think he didn't kill you in London?"

"I don't know that either," Emily said, sighing.

"Are you sure you're safe here? And are you sure it's safe for Declan?" '

"I can't be sure," Emily admitted, "But I feel safer here with all of you guys than I do when I'm alone in some foreign country using a fake name."

"Well I promise you that we'll look after you and the baby - _Bean_," he amended, smiling at her gently. "You know that between me and the rest of the team, no one will touch you."

She smiled gently and reached across the table, putting her hands on his. "Thanks, Hotch. That really means a lot."

She moved to take her hands away from his but he held onto one. Her breath caught and her eyes snapped upward to meet his, but he was still looking at her hand.

"You're picking your fingernails again."

It wasn't a question, and Emily didn't answer.

His eyes turned upward to meet hers. "_Why _are you picking your fingernails again?"

She sighed and tilted her head to the side. "The unsub had an Irish accent."

The realization flitted across Hotch's face. "I'm sorry, Prentiss, if I would've realized that I would've let you sit out-"

"No," Emily said, "No, no, Hotch. I came to do my job and I don't want you to treat me differently because of anything that may have happened in my past, alright?"

"Alright," Hotch agreed. "But you have to promise to let me know if anything makes you uncomfortable."

"I will," she said softly.

Hotch began to eat and Emily lifted up her fork and twisted it in the pasta, which didn't really look all that appetizing.

"You feeling okay?" Hotch asked gently.

She didn't reply.

"Prentiss?" he tried again.

Nothing.

"Em?" he asked, his eyebrows up in confusion.

"Sorry, Hotch," she amended, shaking her head as she tried to clear her thoughts. _When the hell did I start thinking in French? _she thought. "What were you saying?"

"I asked how you're feeling."

"Oh, I'm... fine. I'm fine, Hotch."

He raised his eyebrow skeptically.

"I'm thinking in, like, seven different languages."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I think it's a coping mechanism."

Hotch looked as though he wasn't sure how to respond to that. "So," he said, changing the topic once again. "How far along are you?"

"Seventeen weeks."

He looked slightly surprised. "Wow, almost halfway done already."

She smiled. "Yeah, thank God."

"When is Declan going to start living with you?"

"He's still with Tom for now. Tom's job starts in a month, and hopefully if the paperwork is done by then..."

"It's exciting," Hotch said. "Let me know if you ever need anything."

"I will," Emily said, stirring her soup idly with her spoon, staring out the window silently.

"Hey, so I wanted to ask you something."

Her eyes flicked to his immediately and her heart fluttered. "Yeah?" she asked, trying not to look too hopeful.

"Don't get excited," he said, noting the hopeful expression on her face, "I was wondering if you wanted to go to talk at Hampton University with me to look for recruits."

"Yeah, I'll go," Emily said, smiling happily. "When is it?"

"Friday afternoon. It's from two to four."

Her face fell. "I don't think I can, Hotch. I have a doctor's appointment at five thirty and that's a two hour drive."

Hotch frowned slightly - or slightly more than usual, anyway. He hated to see any of his team members disappointed. "Are you sure you can't?"

"Yeah. I mean, you know I'd love to. I was supposed to go last week since we were at a case so I'm already overdue and this already looks bad since it's my first time with this doctor -"

"How about if we put the siren on on the way back to speed things along, and I drop you off at the clinic?"

"Can we do that?" Emily asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, I mean, if you don't really want to go that badly -"

"You know I do," Emily said.

"Then I don't see why we can't," he said, a smile barely touching his lips and eyes. "Sounds like a plan?"

"Yeah," Emily said happily.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day in the bullpen, Emily was sitting at her own desk in her own chair, with all of her papers spread on the desk in front of her. Blake, JJ and Rossi were gone: Blake was at a conference, and the other two were doing case studies on two serial killers they busted earlier that month. They were off doing the fun work, whereas a stack of six files sat on the corner of Emily's desk. She sighed in despair while looking at them.

_Fuck you, paper work,_ she thought bitterly, glancing at the clock in hopes that it was almost time to go. Unfortunately, it was only twelve-thirty, which meant that they had at least four and a half more hours to go before they got to leave.

And that was if a case didn't pop up.

"Hey, Prentiss," Morgan called in a hushed voice from his desk, which was directly next to hers.

"What?" she asked quietly, glad for an excuse to look up from the report she was writing.

"Look at Pretty Boy," he commented, glancing over his shoulder at Reid.

Emily raised her eyebrows and turned around to look at him, playing it off as cracking her back. Reid didn't even turn around. He was quickly scribbling away on his last case file as though he was horribly late for something.

Emily turned back to Morgan, raising one eyebrow.

"Twenty bucks says he's going to ask to leave early today."

"No way, Reid never leaves early... You're so on," Emily said, a smile creeping onto her face. "Twenty bucks and the loser pays for dinner."

"'Kay," Morgan agreed, reaching out his hand to shake hers.

"_And,"_ she added, smirking, "Loser has to take half the files of the winner."

Morgan's eyebrows went up and he smiled. "Damn, I don't know what England did to you, Princess, but I like it. You're on."

They shook hands.

Reid hadn't heard a word of their conversation, as he was so focused on his report that his nose was almost touching the paper.

Reid suddenly let out a breath of relief, sharpened his pencil, and placed it back into the pen holder on the corner of his desk. Emily and Morgan's eyes followed him as he walked up to Hotch's office, staring at him the entire time he talked with Hotch, trying to profile the conversation through the window.

Reid came back downstairs, grabbed his jacket, and got onto the elevator.

"See ya tomorrow, kid!" Morgan yelled as the elevator shut.

"Fuck you, Derek Morgan," Emily said, laughing humorously as she swapped her twenty dollar bill for six case files.

"Thank you very much, Miss Prentiss," Morgan said, saluting her mockingly. "I'm thinking the Olive Garden for dinner."

"How do you have _twelve _files still, Morgan? Do you just stare at the paper all day?" she asked in despair.

"No, actually, I just take time and effort to make them perfe-"

He was cut off by the ding of the elevator.

Reid walked back into the bullpen with his bagged lunch, slid his jacket off, and went down the hallway, presumably to get more coffee.

Emily's slightly annoyed expression turned to one of complete overwhelming ecstasy. She held out her hand as he reluctantly gave her twenty dollars back, as well as twenty of his own.

"And we'll be going to Red Lobster for dinner," she added happily, giving his files back to him.

"Wait, Prentiss, you didn't give me any-"

"Of _my _files! Oh, how could I have forgotten that..." she said happily, reaching out to grab her files for him.

"How far along are you?" Morgan asked, groaning.

"Seventeen weeks," she answered automatically. Her eyes widened and one hand moved to rest on her stomach as she turned towards him, realizing that wasn't what he was talking about at all.

"What?" Morgan asked, confused. "I mean with the files-Holy shit, Prentiss, you didn't tell me!" he said accusingly, reaching out to place a large hand on her baby bump.

At the sudden and less-gentle-than-usual touch, Bean kicked his hand twice through Emily's baggy, white-silk blouse.

Emily made a strange _oohf _sound at the sensation, her hand moving to rest below Derek's.

"Do you see that, Em?" he asked, a goofy smile growing on his face. "Baby-Prentiss wants to kick down doors like Uncle Derek, don't you, sweetie?" he asked, talking to her stomach. "Who's gonna be a big, bad-ass FBI agent, huh?"

"Derek!" Emily scolded. "Let's not put any ideas in her head, alright?"

"A girl?" he asked.

"I don't know for sure," Emily said. "I don't like calling it "it"."

"When are you due?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to tell him and saw Reid entering back into the office area, a coffee in his hand. She gave her head a little shake and whispered, "They don't all know yet."

"You're going to have to tell them," he said under his breath, turned back towards his desk and picking up a pencil to write with.

"I know," she breathed silently, working on her report - thankfully, there were only three now - "I'll tell them soon."

"Promise?" Morgan breathed as Reid sat down.

Emily moved her head a fraction of an inch upward, and then back down. Morgan smiled with the corner of his mouth as they discovered that they were still able to read each other's nonverbal communication, even after a two year separation.

Emily made a mental note to tell the team tomorrow.

Emily was a nervous wreck on the way to work the next day. Between worrying about Doyle, worrying about Bean, worrying about the team, worrying about what the team would think about Doyle and Bean, and worrying about what Doyle would think if he found out about Bean, and what Bean would think when he or she was old enough to understand all of the craziness that was the lifestyle of any agent in the BAU, the three hours of sleep that she'd actually managed to get was actually quite impressive.

Add that to the one lousy cup of coffee that she was still allowed to drink, and she was legitimately worried that she'd fall asleep on the drive to work.

Good thing that car was still in London, forcing her to call a cab, because she did end up falling asleep in the taxi. And that made her day even worse. Because who doesn't love being shaken awake by a foreign cab driver at seven thirty in the morning?

The familiar sounds of the FBI building in the morning greeted Emily as she made her way to her desk. The beep of the machine that read her ID card, the click of her heels down the empty hallway, the creaking and ding of the elevator, more clicking heels, some typing and the scratches of pencils, and the familiar voices calling "Good morning, Baby Girl", which earned the usual response "I'll show you a good morning, Hot Stuff."

Then she heard something that was starting to become familiar to her: the sound of Reid reading crossword hints to Blake, and Blake answering the questions after a few seconds consideration. The coffee pot was gurgling and JJ perched on the counter next to it, laughing at something that Reid said. As she set her purse on her desk, Hotch came down the stairs from his office and pulled everyone into the round table room.

"Alright, everyone, we have a case. But first, I think Emily has something she'd like to tell everyone?" he asked, raising his eyebrows towards her.

She choked on the sip of water she had just taken, completely unaware that he had this plan.

So he didn't believe she'd follow through on that promise without a little push.

Well... she probably wouldn't have.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"Um," Emily began awkwardly, smoothing out her sweater over her stomach, and receiving a little nudge from Bean as though the baby was trying to encourage its mother, "Well..." she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'm -"

"-Pregnant," three voices said at once.

Emily looked slightly taken aback, staring at Reid and Rossi, who had finished the sentence with her. "How did you -"

"You're going to the bathroom five times in the average work day, which is different from before when you only went twice. You've been wearing baggy sweaters and blouses more often than usual, every day instead of two to three times per week. You wrinkled your nose at the smell at the morgue last week when I've never seen you do that before. And you ate pickles three times last week and you've never eaten pickles before. Actually on January 29 in 2006 when we were on that case in Boston you specifically expressed your extreme dislike for pickles. And you've been touching your stomach like JJ and Garcia did while they were pregnant."

Emily blinked once or twice and then turned to Rossi. "And how did _you _know?"

"I saw the picture in your desk drawer."

"You went through my desk -" she began indignantly.

"I was looking for a pencil," he shrugged.

"Looking for a pencil, my ass," Emily muttered. "I have a pencil holder on the desk for a reason, you know."

"Oh, is _that _what that thing is?" Rossi asked, feigning surprise and barely suppressing a smirk.

The siren ceased to blare as they turned down the street of Emily's clinic. They had left Hampton only an hour ago and both Emily's ears and Hotch's were ringing from the constant noise. Emily's face and stomach were sore and tears streamed down her face from laughter. They had decided to roll the windows down halfway through and the wind was clearly evident in their hair: Hotch's was completely messed up and Emily knew she'd probably have to spend an hour later combing through hers. Hotch had been driving like a mad man.

He pulled into the parking lot of the clinic and stopped the SUV, twisting the key out of the ignition.

Emily turned towards him, still giggling. "That was fantastic, Hotch. Why haven't we ever done that before?"

Hotch, also laughing, replied, "I don't know. That was probably the most fun I've had driving this thing in years."

"You should drive a race car," Emily commented, flipping the mirror down and attempting to straighten out her hair.

Hotch laughed slightly. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind for retirement."

"Well, thanks for driving me."

"Absolutely. Anytime."

Emily grabbed her purse and got out of the car, turning to walk into the building. Hotch watched her, considering.

"Hey, Prentiss," he called out the still-opened window.

"Yeah?" she asked, turning around to face him.

"I'm glad you're back," he said. "We've missed you around here."

A small smile crept onto her face. "Oh, sir," she said, smoothing her hair, "I've missed you all more than you'll ever know."

"I'll see you at work tomorrow," he said.

"Monday, hopefully," she said with a wink.

"Yeah, Monday, then."

He watched her to make sure she got safely into the clinic and then he pulled away.


	13. Chapter 13

His conscience was getting to him, majorly. He had absolutely no business going to that appointment with her, so why did it seem so inexplicably wrong that he wasn't there with her? It wasn't his kid. And it wasn't like he and Emily had anything going on between them... Did they?

He was pulling into his driveway when he saw it on his passenger seat. The little ultrasound picture she'd been so proud of, crumpled up. It must've fallen out of her pocket.

It could wait until Monday, he told himself. Obviously. It wasn't like it was her phone or her car keys or something, it was something she could live without for a few days.

The other half of him was screaming that it was a good reason for him to go back and be with her for a little while longer.

He went inside his house, took off his shoes, and got out his cell phone to call Jessica to tell her he'd be over to pick up Jack shortly. But the picture kept calling to him from where he'd placed it on the counter.

Sighing, he put it carefully in his wallet, went back into his car, backed out of the driveway and turned back towards the clinic.

Meanwhile, Emily was sitting in the waiting room, slightly impatient and slightly nervous. She drummed her fingers against the armrest of her chair, glanced at the clock, and then drifted to her subconscious habit of profiling those around her.

A young couple sat to her left talking excitedly; this was obviously their first baby. An older couple sat across from them looking at a small photograph which Emily assumed was a sonogram. It could easily be their first child, too, judging by the way that the woman was tapping her feet nervously. A disappointed looking middle-aged man sat with two teenagers, both of whom were very solemnly silent. Every few moments the teenage boy would glance up at the older man, earning a deathly glare. A fourth couple sat in the corner with three small, red-haired children playing around their knees.

Emily sighed. She was the only one there alone. She let her mind linger on Doyle for a moment, and was startled when she heard her name called by one of the nurses.

Just as she was about to disappear through the door leading to the examination rooms, she heard her name again from behind her.

"Prentiss, you forgot your -" he began, at the same time that she said confusedly, "Hotch, what are you -"

"You must be Mr. Prentiss," the nurse greeted Hotch, extending her hand to him. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Dr. Chang."

"Nice to meet you," Hotch said, his face straight, "But I'm not -"

He cut off when Emily stomped on his foot. He looked at her with an eyebrow raised, but she just smiled sweetly at the doctor and followed her into the examination room.

_Why the _fuck _did you stomp on his foot? _Emily scolded herself. _Now the doctor thinks he's your goddamn _husband! _She's going to ask why he hasn't been at any of the other appointments, and..._

Hotch's thoughts were equally frantic. _Does she want me to pretend _I'm _her _husband? _Where the hell did this come from? I was just returning her photo! _

"Go ahead and sit on the table, Mrs. Prentiss, and I'm going to take your blood pressure."

Emily hopped up and the doctor immediately began fastening the blood pressure cuff around her arm. Emily paid little attention to the her; instead she was attempting to hold a nonverbal conversation with Hotch.

Several pleading glances from Emily and a few eyebrow-raises from Hotch, and the consensus was made.

He'd play along, for now.

"Blood pressure looks good," the nurse declared, loosening the cuff from around Emily's arm, "A little bit low, but that's to be expected at this stage."

Emily smiled at the doctor, who then looked to Hotch. Dr. Chang looked confused when she saw that Hotch was still completely straight-faced, and when he quickly smiled to cover his mistake, Emily burst out laughing.

Now Dr. Chang was giving both of them strange looks, but Emily continued to quietly giggle for another minute.

"You can go ahead and get on the scale now, Mrs. Prentiss."

Emily's eyes darted to Hotch. His eyebrows shot up.

"I won't look, I promise," he said, "Honey," he added as an afterthought.

"Hmm," the doctor said after a moment. "You haven't gained much weight at all since your last appointment."

"Yeah," Emily said quietly. "Um, is that bad?"

"Not necessarily. You're about four pounds lighter than average for someone your size. I wouldn't worry yet," she said, noting the worried look on Emily's face, "But it's something to keep in mind."

"Okay," Emily said as she climbed back onto the examination table.

"This is eighteen weeks so there's no ultrasound today, but we can do a heartbeat if you're interested?" she asked them.

"That sounds great, right, Em?" Hotch said, standing up to stand beside Emily like he remembered doing at Haley's appointments years ago.

"Yes, Sir," Emily replied instantly.

The doctor unabashedly stared at them for almost ten seconds. It took Emily a minute to figure out why; she realized that most doctors probably weren't accustomed to having women refer to their husbands as "sir".

Those were arguably the most awkward ten seconds of Emily's life.

"You can pull up your shirt while I get this ready," the doctor said, finally snapping out of it.

The doctor turned around and Emily panicked.

It wasn't that she was self conscious of her weight; she never had been and saw no reason to be, especially while she was pregnant.

No, that wasn't the reason she was finding it hard to breathe.

Hotch was going to see the scar.


	14. Chapter 14

Hotch was watching the nurse, and out of the corner of the eye he saw Emily tense up.

She looked incredibly vulnerable, laying on her back on the table with her hands balled into fists as they clutched the hem of her shirt. He saw the alarm in her eyes just before she squeezed them shut, and took a shuddering breath.

"Hey," he said gently, sitting in the chair that was next to the table as he gently pulled one of her hands away from her shirt and held it in his own, "It's okay," he whispered softly so that the doctor couldn't hear. "I understand, Emily. You know I understand better than anyone."

"Hotch," she said weakly as a tear escaped from the corner of her eye, "I can't-"

"Shh," he said, gently wiping the tear from her face as the doctor turned around. "It's okay."

Emily's hand slowly lifted the shirt just to the point where she knew the scar began, about two inches above her navel, keeping it completely covered.

The doctor placed the device on Emily's skin and she shuddered slightly at the contact with the cool gel. There was no sound, so the woman slid it slightly to the left. Still nothing.

The woman reached out and pushed Emily's sweater up. Then her eyes widened.

Emily made a sound that resembled a yelp as her hand automatically moved to cover the long, thick scar. Hotch glared at the doctor.

"My, that might be the largest scar I've ever seen," the doctor commented nonchalantly. She moved the device again and the soft thumping of a heartbeat filled the room.

About three seconds later, Emily was standing up and pulling her shirt down and ignoring the doctor's pleas for her to get back on the table.

"I have to go," Emily kept repeating.

After it became apparent that she wasn't going to listen to the woman, Dr. Chang turned to Hotch.

"Sir, please -"

"If she wants to go, we're going," he said sternly, giving her a death glare.

"Sir, could you please step out for one minute? I need to have a word with your wife -"

"No, I'm not leaving. If you're going to say something, say it in front of me -"

"Did he do that to you?" the doctor was asking Emily. "You can call the police, and -"

"What?! No! He didn't!" Emily was saying defensively, tears still streaking her cheeks. "Fuck off and mind your own business!"

"Ma'am, please calm down -"

"Go to hell," Emily commented as she opened the door to go into the hallway. Hotch followed with his arm around her waist.

"Come back -"

Her voice was cut off by the sound of the door slamming. As they walked out of the hallway back into the waiting room, the secretary called, "Ma'am, did you want to schedule your next appoint-"

"We're not interested, thank you," Hotch said, glaring at the woman behind the desk, who appeared confused.

Slamming the door to the SUV, Hotch realized this was the angriest he had been in ages. _How dare that woman - the audacity - she thought _I _was hurting Emily?! _

Meanwhile, Emily was managing not to cry as she sat in the passenger seat, but she was shaking slightly and her face was a deep shade of red.

"I can't believe that that stupid woman - she was looking at us funny the whole time - and she asked you- who the hell does that?" Hotch was ranting.

A small sob from beside him caught his attention.

"Oh, god, Prentiss, are you okay?" he asked, unsure how to comfort her. "Hey, it's alright -"

"I'm so sorry you had to see me like this, Hotch -"

"Don't you be sorry, she should be the one apologizing -"

"That was so embarrassing, I'll never be able to show my face in there again -"

"Then don't go back."

Emily stared at him and blinked once or twice. "Not go back?"

"You don't have to," he said, shrugging. "I sure as hell wouldn't. Do you want me to get you the name of the doctor that Haley used when she was pregnant with Jack? It's at a different clinic. It might be a bit of a further drive, but -"

"You'd do that for me?" she asked weakly.

"Of course," he said immediately.

She sniffled. "Thanks, Hotch."

He pulled away from the clinic and drove towards Emily's apartment to drop her off. After about five minutes of silence, he said quietly, "Prentiss?"

"Yeah?"

"We need to work on our acting skills if we're going to keep pretending to be married," he pointed out gently, hoping she would get the message that he wanted to go with her to her appointments and support her. He knew what it was like to have scars that he preferred to keep private - both literally and metaphorically.

Emily snorted. "Yeah, I guess so."

Three seconds later she added, "Oh, god, Hotch. You don't have to come with me every time. It's just that you were there and she assumed and I thought it'd just be easier to pretend, which I mean obviously that didn't go well, I mean don't feel like you're obliged or anything even remotely close -"

"Prentiss, I don't mind going with you. Unless you don't want me to?"

"No, I mean, if you're willing to come I guess that's okay... I mean, you've seen my..." she gestured towards her rib cage, "It... now, anyway... I'd rather have you there than be alone. Why were you there, anyway?" she asked, confused as though she had just noticed this for the first time.

"Oh, right," he said, reaching into his pocket. "You left your ultrasound picture in the car. I was going to bring it back. Just... because."

"Oh," she said, taking it from him. "Thank you so much, I don't know what I'd have done if I thought I'd lost it. And... thanks for acting with me."

"It's not an issue," he said gently. "Which building is it?" he asked, changing the topic.

"This next one," she said, and he pulled up to the front door.

"Well... thanks again, sir."

"Anytime, Prentiss."

"I'll see you Monday."

"Text me when you get into your apartment."

She looked at him and raised her eyebrows, but didn't question him. _Is he being protective of me? _

"I will, sir. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He waited until he received her text ("Safe and sound. See you Monday.") and he pulled out of the parking lot.


	15. Chapter 15

Unfortunately, however, their weekend was cut short by a case. Sunday afternoon, Hotch and Emily were driving down a hot desert road in Dodd City, Texas, a little town with a population of only about 400 (416, as Reid repeatedly reminded them) people. It was a serial kidnapper, and four elementary school aged girls had gone missing in the past four days.

The team had been called in early Saturday morning and fortunately they were able to catch the unsub, a woman with severe schizophrenia who believed that the girls were her own daughters, before anyone was hurt. They were on their way back to the hotel to pack up.

"Hotch, I'm pretty sure I'm about to throw up," Emily declared suddenly.

He turned to look at her; her face was turning a shade of pale green.

"Should I pull over or do you have time to get to a gas station -"

"I don't know!" she said frantically, her hands moving to cover her face.

"I saw one just a mile up the road or so, okay? Will you be okay?"

"Hurry," she moaned.

She practically jumped out of the SUV before he had even put it into park. When he walked into the gas station, she was nowhere to be seen.

He turned to the cashier. "Did you see-"

"Brunette woman, sprinting to the bathroom? Yessir, I certainly did," the woman replied in a strong southern accent.

Hotch wandered throughout the gas station, looking for as many nausea remedies that he could think of.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later looking slightly better than before but still pale, Hotch was waiting for her by the checkout counter.

"Hope y'all feel better, hun," the cashier called as they exited.

When they were both back inside of the SUV, Hotch wordlessly passed the bag of his purchases to Emily.

She looked at him questioningly.

He ignored her and blasted the air-conditioner and started to drive.

She looked down into the bag on her lap.

Its contents were a package of crackers, a bottle of water, ginger snaps, a bottle of mouthwash and... a cupcake with sparkly frosting.

She looked up, confused, and noticed that he was watching her.

"It's for your morning sickness."

"Yeah, but -"

"The cupcake is for when you feel better," he offered. "I know how you enjoy those nasty processed desserts."

She smiled at him. "Aww, Hotch, you're the sweetest boss ever."

Emily sat in her new car, a used gray Toyota she'd picked up for cheap. She'd had it for about a week now and she insisted that it smelled funny no matter what her teammates told her.

It was the beginning of April, now, and the weather was getting steadily warmer. There hadn't been a case in over a week and a half, she and Hotch had gone out for coffee together every day for the past week, and her last prenatal appointment with the new doctor that Hotch suggested had gone very well. And yet Emily's current state of happiness was not caused by any of these things.

No, that would have to be due to the happy eleven-year-old blonde boy in her passenger seat that was chattering on and on in French about how excited he was to come and live with her.

She had picked Declan up from the social worker's office about two hours ago and they had gone out for lunch together to get to know each other a little better, and it couldn't have gone better. He remembered everything from Ireland and went on to explain that he had thought of her as his mother back then, and asked if he could call her 'Mom' now.

Which was a little sooner than she had expected, based on the dozens of adoption books she'd been reading over the past few months, but she wasn't going to say no.

He'd even been excited when she told him about Bean. Declan didn't, of course, know that he and the child shared a father, and Emily preferred to keep it that way.

After all, bringing up that unnecessary and painful memory of Doyle's 'death' probably wouldn't help anything, anyway. Plus, she saw no reason why Declan needed to know that his father was alive.

That would just cause more unnecessary drama.

So the plan was that Declan would come home and settle in for the day, the following day they would decorate his room, the day after that there was a party in his honor at JJ and Rossi's, and since Declan was on spring break, Hotch had given Emily the week off to spend some time with her new son.

After that, Declan went back to his boarding school until the beginning of June.

"Well," Emily said, unlocking the apartment door and flipping on the lightswitch. "Here we are. It's not much, but I'll show you around?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling up at her.

She set Declan's largest suitcase down by the door, and he placed the other two next to them.

"Should I take my shoes off or...?" Declan questioned somewhat shyly.

"Oh, well... I guess if they're muddy or wet, take them off, hun..."

Declan looked slightly amused and raised his eyebrows at her.

Emily hung up her coat and then turned around to find her new son smirking at her. "What?" she asked, confused.

"I can tell you're a little new to this whole parenting thing," he said, sliding his shoes off and setting them next to her heels by the door.

"Oh, can you?" Emily asked sarcastically. "We're going to have to figure this out together, alright? Don't you dare try to take advantage of me," she added, waving her finger at him playfully.

"Hey now, would I do that?" he asked, pretending to be hurt and cocking his head slightly to the side.

Emily snorted and held out her hand. "Your coat," she requested.

"I can hang it up myself," he insisted, pushing past her and hanging his coat on the rack next to hers.

"Alright, alright," Emily said, holding her hands up in an I-surrender fashion.

She walked down the short hallway and opened the first door on the left. "This is my room," she said, flipping on the light switch.

Declan raised his eyebrows and looked up at her. "So, are you going to let me leave my room this messy?"

"Nope," she said, laughing. "That's my privilege."

A ball of black fur strode out of the bedroom and rubbed himself against Emily's legs.

"Hey, Sergio," Emily cooed, scooping the cat into her arms.

"You have a cat?" Declan exclaimed. "Awesome!" he reached out to pet the top of Sergio's head, and the cat purred.

"Aww, look at my boys getting along so well," Emily teased gently. She kissed the top of Sergio's head and set him back down on the ground. He disappeared down the hallway.

They moved over to the next room. "This is the bathroom. Sadly it's the only one, so we have to share. This," she said, tapping the door at the end of the hallway, but leaving it shut, "Is my study." She opened her mouth to say something and paused, cocking her head to the side. "I'm not going to tell you you're not allowed to go in there, but... with my job..."

"It'd be better not to?"

"Yeeah, that's putting it mildly. Don't go on the computer, though, alright?"

"Okay," he said.

She shifted to face the next door and swung it opened. "This is going to be the nursery."

It was a very small room, only about seven feet by seven feet with a tiny closet in the corner, an old carpet, a window without blinds and a wooden rocking chair in the corner.

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" he asked, looking up at her.

"No, I'm not sure."

"Are you going to find out?"

She looked slightly surprised. "You know, I haven't really thought about it. Do you want to find out?"

"Me?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure. It's your brother or sister, right?"

"I guess so," he said, a smile growing on his face. "I don't want to find out. I like surprises."

"Alright, we'll leave it a surprise, then," she said, beaming at her new son as she laid a hand on her baby bump.

"And my room?" he asked, looking hopeful.

"Right here," she said, swinging the door open. "It's not much, but..."

She watched the little boy's face as he looked around the room. It was a bit bigger than the nursery, but not by much, and it held a twin bed with an old quilt, a small night table, a writing desk with a chair in one corner, and a wooden dresser. There was a small door that led to the closet and a window, and there was no room for any other furniture.

"I made the bed this morning," she said softly. "And I tried to vacuum. There was carpet in here but it was gross so I had it torn out. The wooden floor is pretty nice, but we can get a rug if you'd like, and we can paint. I didn't know what you'd want for the bed and posters or whatever, so I thought we could go shopping tomorrow if you're up for it?"

"Thanks," Declan said, turning around and throwing his arms around her. Emily was slightly surprised for a moment, but then she returned the hug happily, and the baby kicked.

"Aww, look at that," Declan said, smiling up at Emily. "Bean wants to be a ballet dancer like his big brother."

Emily smiled affectionately at him and placed a hesitant kiss on the top of his head. "You want help unpacking?"

"No, I think I'm okay."

"Alright, Dec. I'll be in my study if you need me, okay?"

"Okay."

As Emily sank into the swivel chair in her study, she couldn't help but smile a little to herself, thinking about Declan and Bean and Sergio and her, living together in this little apartment.

She finally had a little family of her own.


	16. Chapter 16

"_They're here!" _Jack shouted, his voice carrying throughout the mansion belonging to his 'Uncle Dave'. Henry rushed to the door and pulled it opened, Jack on his heels, and Kendall scooting on her butt behind them, sporting a huge, pink, glittery bow and a drooly smile.

"Hi, boys!" Emily exclaimed, setting her large purse down by the door to wrap her arms around the kids beaming up at her.

"Hi, Auntie Em!" they shouted simultaneously as Emily bent down and scooped Kendall into her arms, resting the baby on her hip.

"How're you guys?"

"Okay," said Henry, brushing his long blonde hair out of his face.

"I'm good, how are you?" Jack asked politely.

"I'm great, thanks, bud," she said, stepping aside so Declan could enter the house. He looked around once inside, his eyes round and impressed as they took in the size of the foyer.

"Auntie Em'ly, who's that?" Henry asked, suddenly shy as he stepped partially behind Jack.

"Well, boys, this is my son, Declan," Emily said, putting her hand on Declan's shoulder as she introduced him. "Dec, this is Jack and Henry."

"Hi," Declan greeted them.

"Hi," said Henry shyly.

"Nice to meet you," said Jack, reaching out his hand. Declan shook it.

Emily smiled. Jack was becoming more and more like his father every day.

"Auntie Em'ly," Henry said, looking up at her. "Where was Declan before? We never seen him before."

"That's because I'm adopted," Declan said kindly to Henry.

"What's that?" Henry asked, confused.

Declan looked to Emily for help.

"That means that I'm not Declan's birth mom, but I'm going to take care of him like he's my son."

Henry's face lit up, "Like Davey and me!"

"Yeah, buddy," Emily said, ruffling his hair, "Kind of like that."

"Come on, Declan, I'll show you my room... I've got lots of cool stuff," Henry was saying excitedly, grabbing Declan's hand and pulling him towards the stairs, "Do you like soccer?"

"Yeah, I love soccer!" Declan said, smiling down at Henry. "Do you play soccer, too?"

"Yeah!" Henry exclaimed.

"Me too!" said Jack.

Emily smiled as she watched the three boys wander up the stairs, Henry clutching both Jack and Declan's hands.

_Acting like cousins already, _Emily thought happily as she carried Kendall towards the voices sounding from the kitchen.

"Hello!" she called joyfully as she entered the kitchen, where something that smelled delicious - and probably tasted even better - was cooking on the stove.

Everyone called out their greetings.

Rossi was standing at the counter chopping some vegetables, wearing his _Baciare il Cuoco! _apron. Hotch and Morgan were sitting on the couch in the attached living room, beers in hand and watching the Illinois University basketball team playing in the March Madness tournament. Judging by the shout of "_Aw, _come _on!" _by Morgan as Emily entered the room, the team wasn't doing so well. Ashley Seaver sat in front of them, leaning against the ottoman, a beer in her hand as well, laughing at Morgan's comments. He threw a pillow at her head. Savannah sat on the end of the couch, Morgan's arm draped lazily around her shoulders.

James Blake was sitting at the dining room table across from Garcia and Kevin. The three of them were leaning over a cell phone, and Garcia was showing James how to properly use an Emoji. Blake laid on her stomach on the floor in the living room in front of the twins, who were also lying on their stomachs, and just managing to lift their large heads off of the ground to look up at the brightly colored rattle that Blake was waving in front of them. One of them - Emily couldn't tell if it was Alex or Luke - gave Blake a gummy smile. JJ was pulling a pie out of the oven for them to eat later, and Reid was helping her set the table.

Garcia let out a squeal when she saw Emily. "Ooh! Where is my newest junior g-man?"

"He went upstairs with the boys," Emily said, shifting Kendall onto her other hip. "Henry wanted to go get his soccer ball, I think."

"It's a little cold for them to play soccer," JJ said protectively, her forehead creasing with worry. "I'm going to go tell him not to-"

"It's fine, Jayje," Rossi said, rolling his eyes. "It's fifty-four degrees out, I think they can handle it."

JJ frowned slightly and then went over to help Reid set the table.

Emily slid into one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.

The timer on the oven went off, and Rossi and JJ's dogs could be heard barking from some other room.

They really enjoyed Rossi's cooking.

"It's done!" Rossi exclaimed, kissing his fingertips like a good Italian chef. "Someone summon the children."

"Boys! Dinner's ready!" Garcia bellowed, causing Kendall to jump slightly in Emily's arms. She gave a little whimper, and Emily hugged her tighter.

Moments later the sound of footsteps thundering down the front staircase echoed throughout the mansion, and the three boys entered the room.

"Hello, Mr. Declan!" Garcia exclaimed, wrapping him in a tight hug. He looked slightly surprised.

"Um, hi."

"I am Miss Penelope Garcia, sweetums, but you can call me Garcia like everyone else. Welcome to the family!"

"Thanks," he said, smiling up at her.

Emily handed Kendall to her mother and introduced everyone to Declan.

"I remember you," Declan said politely to Hotch and Reid and Morgan.

Hotch and Reid smiled slightly, unsure how to respond given the circumstances of their last meeting. Morgan didn't even acknowledge Declan's presence.

_Uh oh, _Emily thought. _Here's the problem I've been waiting for. _

All throughout the rest of the night, Declan grew closer and closer to the members of the team. His face lit up when he tried Rossi's cooking, and he told Rossi that it tasted exactly like real Italian cuisine - telling him, of course, perfectly in the Italian language.

After dinner he, Henry, and Jack went outside to play soccer, and most of the team members of the BAU had to accompany them outside - none of them, it seemed, were capable of turning down a good competition. This resulted in an intense game of five on five, with Henry and Jack being captains.

Henry had first pick and he chose Declan, to Emily's delight. JJ acted offended when Henry didn't pick her.

"I'll pick you next, Mommy," Henry promised earnestly.

The teams ended up being Jack, Hotch, Rossi, Emily, and Blake against Henry, Declan, JJ, Seaver and James. Reid opted to sit out and watch after spouting some facts about injuries during soccer games, while Garcia sat on the sidelines snapping pictures with Kevin at her side.

Morgan mumbled something about watching Kendall and the twins and refused to go and play no matter how much begging Henry and Jack did. Savannah had rolled her eyes and tiptoed outside - so her heels wouldn't sink into the grass - with the team anyway, settling on the sidelines next to Reid. The fact that she hadn't opted to remain inside with Morgan earned her an approving smile from JJ.

They were well matched, and after playing for an hour or so, they were getting cold and decided to end it in a tie. The whole time Emily had been glancing towards the house, hoping that Morgan would stride out of the door, ready to play.

It didn't happen.

Since it was still somewhat warm outside, Rossi lit a fire in his fire pit and they all sat around it in lawn chairs, with cups of hot chocolate and hot cider in their hands. Seaver used a stick to poke at the fire, but threw it in after Reid continuously complained that it was making him nervous.

They played a few campfire games, including 'Telephone' and 'Green Glass Doors', and just talked with each other over the fire.

Declan impressed Reid and Blake by laughing at Reid's joke, which included a reference to one of Shakespeare's least-known plays. When Garcia talked about the musical she was going to be in, Declan asked to go see it. Which made Garcia practically fall in love with him, as if she wasn't already.

And all through this time, Morgan still sat in the house.

"I'm going to go check on Morgan," Emily stated as they began a round of Telephone.

"He's just being a baby," Savannah assured her. "I'm sure he's fine."

"I know," Emily said, getting up and brushing some grass off of her pant leg. "I'm just going to check."

She wandered into the house and after looking for a few minutes, she found him in the living room, laying on the couch.

"Hey," she said softly, standing in the doorway.

He looked up at her. "Hey, yourself."

"You okay?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Guess not."

She walked into the room and sat on the ottoman, next to his head.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You don't like that I adopted Declan," she said.

It wasn't a question, and Morgan didn't answer.

"Derek, talk to me," she pleaded. "I don't get why you're mad."

"I'm not mad," he said, getting up and beginning to pace around the room. "I'm just... upset."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "Can I ask why?"

"You know why," he said harshly.

She felt the tears welling in her eyes and quickly wiped them away. _God, fighting with him sucks,_ she thought. _And fuck these stupid mood swings. _"I don't know why," she said, struggling to keep her voice even.

"You brought _him_ back into our lives!"

"Declan hasn't done anything -" she began defensively, standing up.

"-No, _he _hasn't, but look what his father did to us, Emily! What he did to you!" he shouted, gesturing towards her scar. Emily protectively covered her stomach and took a step away from him.

"Derek, you can't possibly be telling me that you think it's Declan's fault that -"

"If you hadn't tried to protect that kid, Doyle would've never came after you. He never would've known that you were alive."

"And Declan would be dead! Derek, Declan is like my son! I carried him around on my hip and woke up to him jumping on my bed and watched him grow for _two years, _and you're telling me I should've just said screw it so that _I _would be safer? Derek, that's -"

"For all you know, he could be exactly like his father! You know shit like that can run in families, adopting the son of a sociopath is _not _a good decision -"

"You're being ridiculous!" Emily cried indignantly. "Do you want me to go tell Reid that he has to get rid of Seaver because her father was a serial killer? Morgan, Declan is a part of this family now -"

"He isn't-"

"He's my son, and if that isn't enough to convince you -"

"The only reason you even think he's your son is because you slept with his terrorist father!"

The word 'father' echoed throughout the mansion for a moment, and then a ringing silence filled the halls.

Emily stared at him as her eyes filled with tears.

Morgan's look of anger turned to one of shock as he realized what he had just said. "Prentiss, I -" he began, but she cut him off.

"Just forget it," she said, wiping the tears away quickly before they could roll down her cheeks. "I didn't know that was what you thought of me."

"Em - you know that's not what I think of you -"

"Really?" she snapped, "That sounded pretty convincing to me."

"Emily - come on," he called, as walked out of the room, "Em, wait," he said, reaching out to grab her arm.

She whirled around to glare at him. "Morgan, just _stop_."

He did, watching her with sad eyes as she went back outside to sit with the rest of the team on the patio.

"What's wrong, Gumdrop?" Garcia asked, her eyes widening with concern as Emily sat down to watch the team as they played Poker.

Emily pursed her lips and blew in an attempt to calm herself. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

"Derek okay?" Savannah asked, concerned.

"Oh - yeah, he's good."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hotch raise his eyebrows.

She shook her head slightly, and he went back to the game. She stared at the table, almost bursting into tears as she thought of her fight with Morgan. Every once in awhile, Hotch glanced up at her out of concern.

Rossi, Blake, Reid, and JJ all noticed their boss's actions, and noticed that Emily was acting differently.

By the end of the night, it was clear to everyone, even the non-profilers, that something was wrong.

There was most certainly a conflict among the team.


	17. Chapter 17

The next day, the team was called away to Arkansas to investigate a series of murders with the same MOs.

And Emily, who was still feeling down from the night before, and who had been strictly forbidden from this case by Hotch because it would've been the fourth time she'd postponed her ultrasound, had called JJ, who was still on maternity leave, and the two of them were now lounging around outside at Rossi's place, enjoying some of the first warmish weather that they'd had that year. Alex and Luke were asleep inside the house, so they had some time to themselves - with the baby monitor, of course, within arm's reach.

Emily was curled up on a lawn chair reading _The Shining_, while JJ laid on her stomach in the grass, flipping through a magazine.

"Do you think I could pull off one of these floppy beach hats?" JJ asked, turning the magazine towards her best friend.

Emily glanced towards the page. "Definitely. You're gorgeous, you could pull anything off."

"Aww," JJ said, pulling the magazine back towards herself. "You, too."

Emily hummed, not really agreeing or disagreeing, and went back to her book. They sat in silence for a few minutes. The sun peaked through the clouds. JJ pulled her sweatshirt off, leaving her in an old Quantico t-shirt and some black leggings. Emily tugged at the neck of her sweater.

"Can we move into the shade?" she asked a minute or two later.

JJ looked up at her incredulously. "It's like sixty-five degrees out here."

"I'm wearing a black sweater," Emily whined.

"Take it off," JJ replied, looking back to the article she was reading. "I'm working on my tan." She glanced back up a moment later to find Emily still pouting at her.

"I'm not moving. If you need to borrow a tank top, you know where my closet is. Don't wake the boys up."

Emily sighed dramatically and then pulled her sweater off.

JJ chuckled, shaking her head.

"What?" Emily asked defensively.

"You're always complaining about how pale you are," JJ said, "Maybe it's because you never take off those damn sweaters."

"Yeah, well."

Then something caught JJ's eye. "I thought you were going to get that removed," she wondered aloud.

Emily's hand flew to the clover shaped brand just over her left breast, her fingers lightly tracing it. She honestly didn't know what to say. On that flight back to Paris after she'd been discharged from the hospital, she really did want the damn mark off of her chest. But when JJ had mentioned that the pain was probably psychological - that the brand bothered her more because it was a symbol of Doyle's dominance over her - for some reason, she'd hesitated. Cancelled the appointment. And three years later, it was still on her chest.

"I thought so, too," Emily said softly. Her hand dropped to her baby bump and she caressed it gently through the fabric of her camisole, her fingers coming to rest on the hard knot of scars at the top - an everlasting reminder of exactly what this baby's father was capable of. She frowned a bit, and then her eyes widened and flicked up to meet JJ's in poorly masked panic. Had she given it away?

JJ's eyes narrowed in confusion, and she tilted her head.

Emily relaxed. She hadn't figured it out. And really, how could she have? She had no reason to suspect that he was alive.

But JJ wasn't giving up that easily.

"_O_kay," the blonde said, flipping her magazine shut and tugging the book out of Emily's hand. "I think we need to have a little chat."

Emily sighed. Of course it couldn't have been that easy. "Alright," she agreed defeatedly.

JJ looked sympathetic, but she knew Emily had to get some things off her chest, and she wouldn't without being forced.

"Do you want to talk here or inside?" the blonde asked her best friend.

"I don't care."

JJ sat up in the grass, pushing the book and magazine off to the side and moving to the lawn chair next to Emily's. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Well?" JJ asked finally.

"Well what? You're the one that wants to talk."

"I think you want to talk, too," JJ replied. "You just don't know where to start. I don't either, really. But we have to start somewhere."

Emily nodded, but she was still avoiding eye contact.

JJ sighed. She didn't like interrogating her best friend, but at this point, it certainly seemed as though Emily wasn't going to say anything until she did.

"Have you thought of any names for the baby yet?"

This caught Emily off guard, and she glanced up at JJ suspiciously. The blonde looked genuine, and her micro expressions were unreadable. This was no doubt some sort of questioning tactic, but she decided to play along for now.

"No," she answered honestly. "I've thought about it, but... I don't know. Nothing fits. I haven't even found out if it's a boy or a girl, so..."

JJ hummed. "Maybe I can help? I have some baby name books we could look at."

"Yeah," Emily said slowly. "That'd be nice."

"Okay," JJ said, giving Emily a smile as she jumped up out of her chair. "Let's go inside and look!"

Emily, still extremely suspicious, followed JJ into the house. She found her in the kitchen with a big stack of baby name books and two tall glasses of lemonade.

"Sit," JJ said pleasantly, pointing at the chair across the kitchen island from her. Emily did so, vaguely noticing that the lights dangling over the countertop would work perfectly as interrogation lights if they were aimed more directly at her face.

JJ pushed a name book across the table, using the exact same motion that Emily had seen her use so many times when sliding information files to suspects. She wondered if her friend realized what she was doing, or if it was mostly in her own head.

Under JJ's scrutinizing gaze, Emily flipped the book open to the first page and glanced down at it. The first line read, _Aaron: m. Hebrew, Mountain of Strength. _

The smallest of smiles flicked on the corners of Emily's lips and eyes. _Mountain of strength sounds about right, _she thought. She glanced up to see if JJ had noticed her reaction, but the other woman was no longer looking at her; she was reading one of the books.

"Is there anything specific you're looking for?" JJ asked.

"Preferably something that doesn't remind me of a serial killer," said Emily slowly. "Maybe Irish?"

This seemed to pique JJ's interest.

"To go with Declan," she added quickly.

JJ nodded, looking back down at her book. "Any letter you want it to start with?"

"Haven't really thought about it," Emily admitted.

"Well, this book says to be careful with initials. Some kid ended up with the initials A-S-S, can you imagine how well that'd go over in an elementary school?"

"Poor thing."

JJ hesitated slightly, and then said, "What's the last name? That'll help us narrow it down."

Ahh, so that was her goal. Trying to trick her into spilling the beans on Bean's dad.

"Did you really think that would work?" Emily asked, amused.

"No," JJ admitted, a smile growing on her face as well. "But I had to try."

"Fair enough."

"I do think we should talk about it, though."

"My baby's last name?" Emily asked, feigning confusion.

"Your baby's _dad." _

"I told you, it was just a one night thing -"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure we have the same definition of 'one night thing'."

Emily winced. _Technically _Doyle had only been with her one night when their child was conceived. Not even the whole night.

"Okay, let's start there," JJ said, glad she was finally getting a reaction. "Did you, like, meet him at a bar?"

The brunette's eyebrows went up, and she pursed her lips. Technically, she and Doyle _had _meet at a bar. "Yes?"

"And you just went home with him?" JJ asked doubtfully. With all the shit they'd seen, the girls of the BAU - and the guys, even - were usually extremely cautious about going anywhere with strangers.

"Well, no."

"So what happened? You're telling me your kid was conceived in the back of a car? A motel room? The bathroom at a bar?"

"No, it wasn't anything like that -"

"-What, you let him into _your _house then?"

"I didn't _let _him in -" Emily said defensively, starting to get upset.

JJ noticed this and immediately backed off, concern crossing her features. She reached out and put a hand comfortingly on Emily's arm.

"Did he hurt you?" JJ asked gently.

"No," Emily whispered truthfully. As terrified as she had been that night, he hadn't hurt her. He'd been forceful – he was stronger than her – but never rough.

"Emily-" the blonde said disbelievingly.

"Honest, JJ, I promise," she said. "He didn't hurt me."

"But he did rape you?" JJ asked bluntly.

Emily hesitated, and that was all that JJ needed to confirm her suspicions. The blonde looked brokenhearted, and she reached across the table to squeeze Emily's hand.

"Honey -"

"I'm _fine, _Jayje, really," Emily assured, even as her eyes filled with tears. "Stop looking at me like I'm a victim -"

"-You _are _a victim-"

"I... I know, but I can't think about it that way - I don't want you to, either..."

"Did you go to the hospital?"

Emily hmphed. "No."

JJ tilted her head and looked disappointed, her eyebrows up in a pleading position as though there was still time for Emily to go get a rape test. "Why wouldn't you go to the hospital? You know how important it is -"

"I don't know," she lied, her hand once again dropping to her baby bump. "I didn't want all those tests, and -" she stopped abruptly, looking away from JJ and back down to the name books that still laid open on the countertop.

"And what?" JJ asked, cocking her head in confusion and studying Emily's face intently.

Emily shook her head.

JJ pursed her lips, fully aware that her next question would definitely upset her friend, but she knew she had to ask. Emily was again unknowingly tracing the brand on her chest. There was a pause, and then JJ forced herself to ask:

"Why do you associate the baby with Doyle?"

Emily looked up at her quickly, face displaying completely genuine surprise that she hadn't even had time to mask. JJ's expression was patient and sincere, but Emily knew she wouldn't give up without an answer. And JJ was her closest friend... she deserved the truth.

The pair of brown eyes refused to meet the blue as Emily recounted everything she remembered, leaving out the worst of it but giving JJ a few more details than she had given Hotch. When it was over ten or fifteen minutes later, JJ walked around the kitchen island and pulled Emily into her arms.

"Are you scared?"

Emily gave her a watery smile. "Of what?"

"Of Doyle. Do you think he's trying to find you?"

"I don't know. He was so drunk I'm not sure he'd even remember what he did. But he must've known where my flat was ahead of time, because there's no way he could've found me with that much alcohol in his system. I lived there for two years, so if he knew all along, then why wouldn't he have done something earlier if he'd been planning to? I don't think he's trying to h-hurt me. But probably he knows where I am."

JJ was a lot less comfortable with this possibility than Emily seemed to be, but a look of determination crossed her face. "I think it was a good idea for you to come home, back to the BAU," she said. "We can help you if he tries anything. Maybe we could tell Garcia, and she can try to locate him?"

Emily shook her head. "I'm sure he's completely off the grid, considering he was supposed to have died three years ago."

JJ bit her lip, nodding in agreement. "And you don't want Garcia to know?"

"And I don't want Garcia to know," Emily confirmed. "Hotch knows, and you, but that's it. I don't want the rest of the team to know unless... Unless it becomes completely necessary for some reason."

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"I probably shouldn't ask this... and you definitely don't have to answer," JJ began uncertainly, "But why did you decide to have the baby?"

"Lots of reasons," she said softly. "It's not the baby's fault, and when I had... when I had the abortion when I was fifteen... I don't know, I still regret it a lot. I'm forty-four now, so this might be my last chance, and -" she stopped abruptly again, eyes dancing away from JJ's.

Instead of prodding, the blonde let her friend take a moment.

Emily looked back up. "_Nobody_ knows this except for me."

"I won't tell anyone."

"I know." She took a deep breath. "When I came off of the case in Tuscany, when I was undercover with him... I was pregnant."

JJ masked her surprise poorly.

"I hadn't told him, but I knew how excited he would've been. He loved Declan so much... and he loved m-me. Or, well, Lauren. But I couldn't tell. It wasn't like we were going to live happily ever after - he's a terrorist, and he didn't even know my real name, let alone everything else that I had to lie to him about. We were closing in on the case, and I knew it would be over. So I didn't say anything... but when the case ended, and I finally went home... I was a mess. I had to make sure that Declan would be safe, so I moved him and Louise - the housekeeper - to Virginia after I staged their deaths. After that I just didn't know what to do. What do you do when you're pregnant with a terrorist's baby? I couldn't tell Clyde - God knows what he would've thought or said about it. So I just put in for a transfer for a desk job in DC, packed everything and moved closer to Declan. It was weird being pregnant afterwards. It didn't feel like mine - he was a part of a whole different world. I knew I wanted to have him - it was a boy - but I wasn't sure if I'd keep him, or put him up. It didn't m-matter in the end, though. I went into labor at twenty-four weeks, and he was just too little... But I guess I want this one now, because," she said, her voice beginning to crack, "I don't know, it reminds me of - of how happy we were. I know it's fucked up, because the entire relationship was based off of a lie, but -"

"But the relationship itself wasn't a lie," JJ suggested, finally understanding. "You loved him."

"Yeah," Emily breathed shakily, hastily wiping a tear from her eye before it could fall. "And in a really weird way, sometimes... Sometimes I still do."

JJ nodded understandingly, and Emily sighed in relief - it felt good to finally tell someone these things, regardless of how difficult it was.

"Em, I do think you made the right choice coming back here," JJ assured her.

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "If he tries anything - and after what you just told me, I'm not sure that he will - but if he does, we're here. And you know that no matter what, the team - we'll take care of you. You and Declan and the baby. No matter what Morgan thinks about you taking Declan in, I know he'd do anything for you. He's just... well, frankly he can be an ass. But he's a loyal ass."

Emily snorted through her tears. That was the truest statement she'd heard all day. And JJ was right - even if Morgan wasn't behind her on this one decision, she knew that she could count on any one of her team members no matter what, and that knowledge was more comforting to her than she could ever put into words. Being a single parent was hard, but it would be a lot easier with such a stellar support system. She could do it. She was strong.

"If you ever need anything, and I mean this totally seriously, Em, do not be afraid to ask me. You're my best friend, and I know you hate admitting when you need help, but you will need something eventually. If you're ever even slightly overwhelmed, promise you'll call me, okay?"

"I promise," she said with a watery smile. "Thank you, JJ."

"It's nothing," the blonde said, handing her friend a box of Kleenex. "Now, how about we go wake the boys up and go out for ice cream? I'm craving chocolate."

"Still trying to fix things with chocolate?" Emily teased.

"I'll stop fixing things with chocolate when it stops working," she retorted with a smirk. "Or when we can drink alcohol again. Now let's go."

Emily followed JJ up the stairs to the nursery knowing that there was not a better best friend on the planet than hers.


	18. Chapter 18

Emily had to leave halfway through ice cream because she'd gotten the call that the team had landed, and therefore she had to go in to work. She'd reluctantly said goodbye to JJ and the boys, and she somehow managed to get all the way onto the freeway before she started sobbing.

The tears were equally of humiliation and total relief. She _hated _opening up like that, even if it was to her best friend in the entire world, but she had to admit, each time she told someone – so far, only JJ and Hotch had been trusted enough to actually get the full story – but once she told them, a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. Not the entire weight, but some, and it was enough. She wasn't sure what would happen now that they both knew – if they'd try to do anything about Doyle. She was honestly surprised that they'd both believed her. The story was kind of ridiculous.

Her phone rang, and she quickly sipped some of her water, trying to clear her throat before answering. She looked down at the Caller ID. Garcia.

"Hey," she answered, wincing as her voice cracked audibly.

"What's wrong, Gumdrop?" Garcia asked, concern evident in her voice. Emily silently cursed herself. She'd been trying to avoid this. Lying to Garcia was tricky – one wrong word, and she would be all over your bank account history and GPS tracking, trying to deduce for herself what problem was hurting one of her babies.

"Ugh, I think mostly it's hormones," Emily said, shaking her head. "Sorry. I'm fine."

There was a moment of silence during which Emily held her breath.

"Okay. Are you sure? Because if it's something more than that –" Garcia began, but Emily cut her off.

"–It's not, Pen. It's nothing to worry about. I promise. I must be at the point in this pregnancy where the tiniest things set me off," she lied smoothly.

"Oh, honey, trust me, I was bad when I was having Kendall. I think Derek feared for his life a few times. Kevin, too. Been there, done that."

Emily sniffled, chuckling a little bit. That definitely sounded like Garcia. "Why'd you call?"

"Oh, right. I was going to tell you to come straight down to my lair when you get here, because I'm afraid you'll get lonely down in the bullpen all by your lonesome."

Emily felt her eyes stinging, and the lump in her throat welled up again. Leave it to Garcia to call her just to make sure she wouldn't be lonely sitting down the hall by herself. The technical analyst could be so sweet without even thinking about it.

"Em, you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'll grab my stuff and head right over."

"TTFN!"

She arrived at the office a few minutes later and scanned her way into the unit, gathered the case files that someone had left on her desk, and wandered over to the break room to grab a crappy cup of coffee before entering Garcia's lair. Garcia had brought in an extra table and chair to work as Emily's makeshift desk for as long as the team was gone, and on the desk were two rolls of Mentos. Emily's favorite.

On one of Garcia's screens, fingerprints were flying by as the computer attempted to find a match for the one that they'd found at the last crime scene. On another screen, a different program attempted to match a mug shot to the extremely fuzzy video they had of their unsub from a surveillance camera. On the main screen, the one directly in front of the technical analyst, YouTube was open and a video by comedians Key and Peele was playing.

Emily raised an eyebrow and Garcia just turned to her, pouting.

"What, I can't enjoy myself a little while I wait for them to tell me something?"

"I didn't say anything," Emily smirked, sinking into the chair Garcia had pulled in for her and flipping the case file and her laptop open. A minute later there was a chime, and Morgan's face appeared on the screen mounted above Garcia. Emily winced and decided to stay quiet – she really didn't feel like dealing with her fight with Morgan right now.

"Hello, brown sugar," Garcia purred, biting the end of her pencil seductively.

"Hey, baby girl," Morgan retorted without missing a beat, "You're on speaker. You ready to run some names for me?"

"I was _born _ready –" she started, but she was cut off by the YouTube video that she'd accidentally played.

"These are some racist mother-fucking zombies!" said the tiny voice from the speaker. Garcia slammed down on the pause button.

"Penelope Garcia, get off of YouTube!" Morgan scolded her.

"I was bored and you hadn't given me any job to do yet and –"

"Just see what you can dig up on Paul Emerson and Randall Oberhauser, will you? They're teachers at the local high school."

"Naughty teachers?" Garcia asked.

"That's what we'd like to find out," Morgan replied.

"Okay, gorgeous, I will see what I can find."

"Thanks, baby. And no more Key and Peele."

Garcia chuckled. "You're just jealous."

"What? Jealous?"

"Because you know I like my men like I like my coffee – black," she flirted.

Morgan laughed. "You and I both know that you like at least five creams and sugars in your coffee."

"Maybe that's why she's dating Kevin and not you," came Reid's voice from somewhere behind Morgan.

The unmistakable sound of a slap could be heard through the phone.

"Ouch, Rossi, Morgan hit me again!" Reid whined.

"You were asking for that one, kid," came the Italian's voice.

"We'll call you later if we need anything else, Garcia," said Hotch, who sounded a little bit stressed but also kind of like he was trying to hide a smile.

"Sounds good, boss man. I'll call if I find anything."

Garcia hung up, and then swiveled around to face Emily, who was giggling.

"What's so funny, Agent Prentiss?" Garcia asked sassily.

"It's just good to be back. I almost forgot how entertaining you guys are."

The case was solved a few days later – in the middle of the night, once again – and Emily was so exhausted, she barely even remembered driving home. She flipped the deadbolt on the front door, kicked her shoes off, dropped her purse just inside the door, and stumbled into her bed without setting an alarm for the next day.

She woke up exhausted. Glancing out the window, she realized it was still dark out. She rolled onto her side and looked at her alarm clock - 6:08 AM.

_Why the hell am I up right now? _she wondered, already almost half asleep again.

Then the doorbell rang, and she jumped. Wide awake, Emily grabbed her gun off of her nightstand, checked to make sure it was loaded, and began to creep down the hallway, careful to make sure that her back was always against the wall.

When she got to the door, she silently leaned forward to look through the peephole. Emily sighed in relief and swung the door open to reveal JJ and Garcia, both wide awake and dressed as though it was the middle of the afternoon.

"D'we have another case?" Emily mumbled, confused.

"No..." JJ said.

"Then what the _hell," _Emily began as she stifled a yawn, "Are you guys doing here this early?"

Garcia's smile slipped off of her face and her mouth opened in terror. "Emily Prentiss, is this a joke because I sincerely hope that this is a joke."

Emily's blank stare told them that it was not a joke at all; their friend had honestly no idea what they were talking about.

"It's Saturday..." Garcia began in a tone that she normally reserved for talking to very young children.

"And...?" Emily asked, her eyebrows pushing up and together.

"The anniversary gala is tonight!" JJ scolded her. "Come on, don't tell us you forgot about our shopping traditions..."

"Oh, my God! It is shopping day! I didn't know you guys still do this..."

"Of course we do! It's part of _the Code!_"

"Oh, damn," Emily said, mocking seriousness as she ran a hand over her hair, which was tied up in a messy bun, "This is a big day. Why don't you two come in and wait, and I'll get ready quickly and then we can head out. I didn't even know you were back, Jayje. What time did the plane land?"

"Like forty-five minutes ago."

"Wh – did you even sleep?"

"Mhm, for like an hour on the jet."

"How the hell are you conscious right now?"

"I have newborn twins. I don't need to sleep."

Garcia gave her a doubtful look.

"Dave has a shit ton of energy drinks in his office," she admitted as she and Garcia followed Emily into her apartment. Emily locked the deadbolt again.

"Are you _supposed_ to drink those while you're breastfeeding?" Garcia asked.

"Are you _supposed _to drink wine while you're pregnant?" JJ fired back.

"That was one time!" Garcia cried indignantly.

Emily chuckled.

"This is a nice apartment," JJ commented, changing the subject as Emily poured her guests coffees.

"Yeah, it's nice. It's big enough and it's pretty cheap. The staff is good, the fitness room is good, the pool is nice, and the security is - hold on, how did you get in here without a keycard, anyway?"

JJ smiled at her friend and said, "Waving an FBI badge around generally gets you into places."

Emily laughed. "So true. I'm going to go get ready. Make sure Garcia doesn't get into anything, okay?"

"Does that mean there's things to get into?" JJ asked, a mischievous gleam in her big blue eyes.

Thirty or so minutes later, Emily exited the bathroom, ready to go. She walked into her kitchen to see - nothing. No JJ, no Garcia.

Absolutely silent, Emily wandered back down the hallway, listening carefully for the voices of the blondes.

She found them huddled up together in the room that was slowly but surely turning into the nursery. Emily had been trying to purchase a few things here and there, and she was fairly proud of what she'd done so far. The carpet was new, the paint job was new - she didn't know what she was having, so she'd gone with yellow. There was an old wooden rocking chair in the corner that she'd gotten from a second-hand furniture store, and a tiny dresser with pastel colored drawers that doubled as a changing table sat against the wall. In the closet there were shelving units which Emily thought could be used for books or toys eventually, and there was a a few bars with small hangers on them for baby clothes. Emily had been planning on a cute Noah's Ark theme to the room, with lots of animals and rainbows.

JJ and Garcia were sitting on the floor in the room with their backs to the door.

Emily, leaning in the doorframe, said, "I see you haven't gotten into things," her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Her best friends turned around and she saw that there were tears in their eyes.

"Oh, my God, what's wrong?" Emily asked, suddenly very concerned.

"Our little Princess is really having a baby," Garcia said, smiling at Emily through her tears.

"Oh, come on," Emily said, going to her friends and giving them each a hand as they got up. "No mush."

"Hush, you, I'm trying to have a moment - ooh, a text!" Garcia said, pulling out her iPhone, which had a case with pink sequins and pink bows made of ribbon. "Derek says we're supposed to be there by five today."

"We'd better get going then."

They spent the rest of the morning bouncing from thrift shop to thrift shop. Years ago – probably Emily's second or third year with them – the girls had decided that buying a brand new ball gown every year for the FBI Anniversary gala was totally overrated, so they started thrifting. Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to find a thrift shop dress that fit them perfectly, so they'd always had to get them altered. Two years after that, they'd been planning on shopping two weeks ahead of time, but they'd ended up on a case in Alaska that'd lasted two weeks. They got home six hours before the gala with absolutely nothing prepared and spent the rest of the day frantically searching for dresses and poking each other with needles as they tried to alter the dresses themselves.

They were so frantic they'd become deliriously giddy, but everything had worked out in the end, and they'd made such good memories that day that they decided to put the same pressure on themselves every year. So now they intentionally waited until the very last minute to pull everything together. They'd had some close calls since then – Garcia had a minor wardrobe malfunction a few years back – but they continued recklessly on anyway.

By the time noon rolled around, they were starting to second guess themselves. Garcia was the only one that had found a dress.

"_Oooh!_" Garcia squealed, pulling a floor length, one strapped, teal chiffon dress off the rack. "This is beautiful and it's only $15!"

"That is cute! What's the size, Pen?" Emily called over her shoulder from where she was digging through a bin of shoes.

"Ummm, let me see… oh. It's a zero."

Emily groaned. JJ plucked the gown out of Garcia's hand and disappeared into a fitting room.

She reappeared a moment later with the dress on. It fit like a glove.

"OMG, Jay," Garcia squeaked. "You are drop dead gorgeous in that!"

"You gave birth to twins barely a month ago," Emily said slowly, "And you fit into a zero?"

JJ shrugged, spinning around a little in front of the mirror. "So?"

"So I think I hate you."

"You're like twenty weeks and barely showing," Garcia pointed out. "I don't think you get to complain. I'd gained, like, forty pounds by then."

Two hours later they still hadn't had any luck for Emily. They were at a Goodwill in Baltimore, and starting to consider cheating and buying a dress new. Emily really wasn't showing a whole lot – she'd easily fit into a regular sized dress, if it had a higher waistline – but unfortunately most of the dresses they were encountering were skin tight.

"This one isn't _that _bad?" Emily said, pulling the door to the dressing room open so her friends could look in. It was definitely more of a question than a statement of fact, though.

"It's not terrible," JJ said as though she was trying to convince herself.

"You can see my brand, though," Emily pointed out, looking at the slightly raised clover.

"I can also see your left nipple," Garcia said, quickly pulling JJ inside the fitting room with her and slamming the door, hoping that other shoppers hadn't seen.

"Fuck," Emily hissed, jerking the dress back up. "Yeah, this isn't going to work." She sighed. "Maybe I should just sit this one out, guys. These things aren't fun without alcohol, anyway."

"You have to come. It's in the Code."

Emily sighed. So there would be no getting out of this.

"I'll text the guys," Garcia said. "They wanted to know if we'd have time for dinner before the gala… I'm thinking no."

JJ and Emily nodded in agreement.

"Ask them if they have any ball gowns lying around, too," JJ added jokingly. Although she hadn't been serious, neither Emily nor JJ were surprised when they felt their phones buzz and looked down to see that Garcia had indeed inquired about dresses in the group chat.

They _were _surprised, however, when Rossi, Morgan and Hotch all said yes. It turned out that Rossi had an old one in storage that one of his ex-wives had left behind – this didn't please JJ. Morgan's Savannah had a few dresses she'd worn in her friends' weddings. And Hotch had a gown that had belonged to Hayley.

After a few minutes' contemplation, JJ and Garcia had convinced Emily to try the dresses. After all, at this point, it didn't seem like they had any other option. They gathered up their purchases and piled into Garcia's little old car - which was named Esther - and headed back to Virginia.

"Honestly, guys, I don't mind re wearing something," Emily argued as they pulled into JJ and Rossi's driveway.

"You can't," Garcia whined. "That's no fun."

"Well, what if I wear something that was one of yours?"

"Just try on the ones from the guys first."

Emily groaned and followed her best friends inside the house. The dresses were all hanging in one of the guest bedrooms.

Emily tried the first one. "Not your color," said Garcia.

The second: "It's pretty, but we don't have time to hem the bottom," JJ said regretfully.

The third: "Ew, that looks like it's older than me!"

The last dress was simple black chiffon, floor length, with black lace sleeves that went down to Emily's elbows. The waist was just high enough that it sat right on top of her little baby bump, the folds of the fabric camouflaging it perfectly. Though the brand on her chest was still visible through the lace, someone would have to be actively looking for it in order to actually notice it.

Emily stepped out in front of her friends again, actually confident this time.

"OMG," Garcia squealed, accidentally tugging JJ's long blonde hair, which she had been pulling into some sort of elaborate updo – it turned out that wedding-party quality hairstyles were one of Penelope Garcia's many hidden talents. She could even do them on her own head, which was lucky, because both Emily and JJ were practically useless when it came to anything fancier than a French braid, and JJ could barely even do that.

JJ turned to look at Emily, and Garcia swatted her – she'd still been holding her hair, and several of the pins were pulled loose. JJ didn't care.

"Em, you look gorgeous!" her best friend exclaimed.

"Can't argue with you there," Emily agreed, checking herself out in the hallway mirror.

"It fits perfectly," Garcia added. "Whose was that?"

"I think one of Savannah's," JJ said.

"I hope so," Emily declared. "Because I'm assuming the old hot pink one was Mrs. Rossi's –"

"We should stop saying that," JJ interrupted, wincing. The girls had always referred to Rossi's three exes as "Mrs. Rossi" instead of going to the trouble of remembering which one they were actually talking about. Now that JJ was soon – well, probably soon, as they hadn't picked a date yet – to _become _Mrs. Rossi herself, it seemed like referring to the exes collectively as "Mrs. Rossi" did _not _bode well for their marriage.

"Sorry, I didn't think about that, Mrs. Rossi Four," said Emily cheekily.

"I thought you're sticking with Ms. Jareau?" Garcia inquired.

This was news to Emily. "How come?"

"Because," JJ began pointedly, as though reminding them that it wasn't really any of their business. "There's only room on this team for one Agent Rossi."

Emily laughed. "True."

"And I didn't change it last time, either, so why would I now?" the blonde added quietly, her voice quivering slightly at the end.

Emily really hadn't ever gotten the story on what had gone down between JJ and Will. She was, however, beginning to think she might have to find him and give him a black eye or two. It was definitely out of character for JJ to get weepy at the mere mention of someone. Emily opened her mouth to ask, but Garcia silenced her with a pointed look and a finger she slid across her throat.

Okay, so that subject really _was _off limits.

There was a slight lull in the conversation, and then JJ sniffled, shook her head as though clearing it of any negativity, and said, "Em, why would it bother you if that dress was Hayley's?"

Sigh. Of course JJ's thoughts, feelings and personal life were off-limits, but they could discuss hers without reservation.

"I don't know," she began uncertainly, grimacing. "You don't think that's weird?"

"Hmm," Garcia pondered. "I hadn't thought of it like that. Maybe it _is _a little weird –"

"No, it's not," JJ said, the look in her large blue eyes leaving no room for argument. It was a mom look, Emily realized with a twinge of amusement. "If Hotch thought it was weird, he wouldn't have offered it. And look," she said, pointing towards Emily's shoulder, "It still has the tag on. Hayley never wore it. Hotch will probably be glad it's getting used, and not lying in the back of his closet collecting dust."

Emily and Garcia nodded, but Emily still wasn't completely convinced. If the dress meant nothing to Hotch, then why had he kept it all those years?

She was torn from her thoughts when she noticed Garcia giving JJ a poorly concealed smirk, which JJ was pretending not to notice.

"What?" Emily asked in a low, threatening tone.

"Nothing," Garcia said a little too quickly. JJ busied herself with applying her blush.

"Penelope," she said warningly. "Don't make me give you the silent treatment."

"On gala day!?" Garcia whined.

"On gala day," Emily confirmed.

The Technical Analyst looked from JJ to Emily several times, before throwing JJ an apologetic glance and turning to Emily –

"Garcia, don't you dare!" JJ began at the same time that Garcia squeaked, "JJ ships Hotchniss!"

Emily stared at them for a moment, confused. She did, of course, know what it meant to "ship" something – after all, she _was _friends with Penelope Garcia.

"I am going to kill you," JJ whispered threateningly to Garcia, who was waiting on Emily's reaction with apprehension.

"Hotchniss?" Emily repeated, brow furrowing as she turned her gaze to JJ. "Is that Hotch and… me?"

In lieu of a response, JJ pushed her lips tightly together and started filling in her eyebrows.

"I can't say I blame her," Garcia continued, as though trying to make it up to JJ that she'd blown the great secret. "You two _would _make beautiful babies."

"Oh, my God," Emily laughed, praying they wouldn't notice her blushing. "You guys are crazy."


	19. Chapter 19

JJ, Emily, and Garcia pulled into the parking lot late.

Not _seriously _late, but late enough that they definitely wouldn't walk in without being noticed. As they entered the lobby, they paused at the ballroom doors – yeah, the director was making his speech.

"Let's wait out here until he's done," Garcia suggested. Seeing no other option – or, no other option that wouldn't look pretty bad on their part – Emily and JJ agreed.

But damn, the director really could talk – his speech seemed to drag on forever. Emily lost interest in a few minutes, maybe less, and her mind drifted back to worrying about talking to Morgan again.

At least at a crowded venue like this, they couldn't get into a shouting match, right? She prayed it wouldn't come to that. She didn't think it would – they'd never yelled at each other before, not really – but Derek _had _seemed pretty pissed. If they had a truly bad argument here, it could even threaten their jobs – especially if Cruz heard and thought it would make him look bad.

She winced. Rumor had it he'd already gotten in trouble for allowing her to return to the BAU. Adding an extra agent wasn't easy on the budget. But Emily had a suspicion that a little convincing from JJ had been enough to win the man over, even if they'd never met.

Emily remembered when she had finally worked up the nerve to call and ask to come back.

She'd been up the entire night sobbing in a hotel room – she never slept at home if she could help it, not after Doyle – crying so hard she'd vomited a few times.

Nothing had even happened to set her off. She and her team had just had an extremely successful case, and the rest of them had gone out for drinks after, but she'd made some excuse and dismissed herself, as they didn't know about the baby. They'd ask why she wasn't drinking, then why she wasn't happy about the baby, and then _somehow, _she didn't know how, but she was quite certain, _somehow _Clyde would have found out. And he would've made trouble with her now-ex-boyfriend, Mark, who also didn't know about the baby, and who probably would've been a little suspicious about the pregnancy, considering he'd been away for two months. It would've just been a disaster.

Around 3am in England, Emily finally said screw it and decided to call Garcia's desk phone. It was late in Quantico – around 10 PM – and she didn't want to wake anyone up, but if Garcia answered her desk phone, that meant they were on a case, and that would mean that they were all awake and available to talk.

"I'm looking but I haven't found any matches yet –" Garcia had answered, thinking someone on the team had called.

"It's me, Garcie," Emily said, voice still thick from crying.

"Gumdrop!" Garcia had squealed. Hearing her voice made Emily feel better instantly. "What's wrong? Can I help? How are you? Why are you calling me so late? I miss you!"

"I miss you, too," Emily said, tears once again threatening to spill over. "I take it you guys are on a case?"

"Yes, we are. Pretty bad one, too. Lots of bodies."

Emily bit her lip, almost deciding to call back another time. But she knew she'd never work up the courage to call again.

"Is everybody still awake?"

"Yeah… Em, are you okay? Aren't you five hours ahead of us? You should be in bed."

"Um, yeah… Listen, Pen, I'll give you a c-call soon, okay? I need to talk to Hotch."

"Okay," Garcia agreed, sounding a little sad and thoroughly concerned. "Tell me if you're okay, though."

"I'll be fine," Emily assured her, even though she wasn't so sure.

"Okay. Call me soon, okay? We don't talk enough. I gotta go. But I love you."

Emily smiled. "Love you, too, PG."

She'd taken a few minutes – cried a little more, then calmed herself as best she could. She dialed Hotch, who was still #3 on her speed dial.

"This is Hotchner."

"Hey, Hotch," she said quietly. "It's me."

"Prentiss? What's wrong?" he asked. "We're on a case, but if we can do anything to help you guys out –"

"—Oh, I'm not on a case," she said a little stupidly. "Um, I just wanted to call and –"

"—Could I call you back, then? We're close to catching this guy –"

"– oh," Emily said, sounding hurt. "Yeah, that's fine. I understand." Her voice broke on the last word, and she heard Hotch pause on the other end.

"Hold on one sec," he said. She heard him telling some people to do something without him. "Prentiss, are you still there?"

"Yeah."

"I have to drive over to the house, but I can talk in the car on the way. What's up?"

Now that she was given the opportunity to talk, she had no idea what to say. She took a deep, shuddery breath, and then blurted out, "Can I come back home?"

Hotch was silent for maybe three seconds before Emily couldn't stand waiting for a response any longer, and she just started talking, "It's just – I'm sort of at a point right now where I'm realizing I kind of hate Interpol. I belong at the FBI, with you guys. I'm just tired of being by myself and I'm not enjoying London anymore. I never should've left you; it's killing me to be so far away, and I just really, _really _want to come back –"

She stopped abruptly as she heard sirens from Hotch's end of the phone call. "I'm sorry, I know you don't really have time to chat –"

"No, I'm glad you called," Hotch assured her in his calming manner. "I'm sorry, but I do have to go now. But Prentiss, please know that I heard everything you're saying, and I will see what I can do. That's a promise."

Emily smiled, sniffling. He always knew exactly what to say. "Thank you, sir."

"You don't have to call me 'sir' anymore," he reminded her gently.

"Right," she said, almost laughing. He'd probably told her that a dozen times since she'd left them.

"And Prentiss," Hotch said as the sirens grew louder. "We've missed you, too."

Two days later – 8:30 am Quantico time, just long enough for a morning meeting – JJ had called to tell her that she was back in. Emily put in her two weeks' notice, spent the next two weeks fighting with Clyde and Mark about her unexplained departure, and then she was on the plane on the way home.

She'd done this primarily to get somewhere where she'd have the love and support of a family – not only was she extremely lonely, but she also thought it'd be good to have people around when she brought her little one into the world. For the most part, it'd been a blessing to be back at the BAU, but not so much with Morgan in one of his moods again.

"Emily Anne Prentiss!" Garcia's scolding pulled her from her thoughts.

Emily jumped. "What?"

"You chewed your beautiful thumbnail off!" she accused. "You wear fake nails to _cover_ the chewed ones, not so that you have ten more to gnaw on!"

"Aw, sorry, Pen," Emily said regretfully. "I don't even notice I'm doing it."

"I brought the glue," JJ added as though she'd predicted that this would happen all along – she probably had.

By the time Emily's nail was firmly back in place, the director's speech had ended, and the music started. The three girls went in and found the BAU's two tables, where Rossi, Morgan, Hotch, Reid, Ashley Seaver, Blake and her husband James, Kevin, and Savannah were sitting.

Morgan got up before they reached the table, before any of them could even say anything. He looked at Emily with wide eyes – she felt butterflies in her stomach and subconsciously began to pick the thumbnail off again. Morgan nodded towards the exit, and Emily followed him there in silence, the team's nervous glances following them out.

"About the other day," Morgan began – she was glad he'd started, because she didn't know where to – "I just… I owe you an apology."

"Honestly, Derek, just forget it."

"No, sweetheart, I gotta say this. I'm really sorry. I should not have said those things about Declan, and I definitely shouldn't have made that comment about –"

" – I'm not mad at you for saying those things, really. Nothing you said was untrue – I _did _sleep with a terrorist," she added quietly, making sure no other agents were in earshot.

Morgan winced as though wishing he could claim he hadn't said that.

"It's okay," she whispered as her eyes began to fill with tears again. "But, is... is that really what you think, though?"

God, she looked so vulnerable, he wanted to kick himself for making her feel that way.

She _really _wished she weren't crying in front of him, but it seemed like that was out of her control at the time being.

"I know there's much more to it than that. I was just putting my foot in my mouth like I always do when I get worked up."

"But… it is what I did," Emily whispered, looking down at the carpet. Ashamed.

"You were doing a job," he tried to comfort her.

She snorted. "Yeah, for maybe two months. After that it wasn't a job anymore – it was my life. And it still is. And I got a _great _kid out of the ordeal." She looked up, back into his eyes. "And Derek, I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions for _my _life. I do value your opinion, because you're my friend, but you don't get to tell me what to do. Especially not with a decision as important as Declan. I do understand your concerns about him and any possibility that he inherited _anything _from his father, but I promise if I see anything that has me even slightly concerned, I'll make sure that I –"

"I know you will, Princess, and that's why I shouldn't have said anything. I know this sounds like bullshit but I was honestly just thinking that if you're still trying to forget about what happened and move on, having him around constantly to remind you wouldn't really help with that process of healing –"

"That's the thing, though, Derek. It took me two years to finally get it into my head, but I'm never going to be able to go back to my old life. I'll never be that person that I was when I first joined the team. But by trying and trying to go back to being that person, I've cheated myself out of _two really good years_ with my best friends and my dream job. To move on, I have to acknowledge what happened and learn to live with it. And it'd be great if all of you would appreciate that I'm okay with what happened now so I can keep moving forward."

"If that's what you need me to do," he said softly, understanding.

Emily nodded, her eyes beginning to sting. "Can you do that?"

"Yes, I can," he assured her. "Or I can at least try my damned hardest. I'm sorry I've been such a shit."

"You're not a shit," Emily said, a smile almost touching her eyes. "You're good."

"Could've been a lot better about this, though."

"Yeah," she agreed, smile dropping off of her face and voice quaking as she tried to hold back the tears.

"Hey, none of that." He gave her a side hug, planting a kiss on the top of her head. "You know even when I'm being a stubborn asshole, I love you and I've got your back, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"And I am sorry for overstepping my boundaries. Are we good?"

"Yeah, we're fine," she replied. "Now give me a hug, you bastard."

He obliged. But when he pulled away, he noticed she was still crying a little. "No more tears now, seriously. This is a fun night. You'll ruin your mascara and then I'll have to deal with the wrath of Penelope Garcia. Even though I probably deserve it."

"Nobody deserves that," Emily joked, and Morgan's huge, goofy smile appeared back on his face. Just like that they were back to their usual brother-sister banter. Although his harsh words would probably never be forgotten, all was forgiven.

They returned to the tables laughing and the team finally relaxed, knowing that the problem was gone and they'd be okay now.

"Anyone sitting here?" Emily asked as she approached, pointing to the table between JJ and Reid.

"Elle Greenaway was," Reid answered.

"I don't think she's coming back," JJ added.

"Aw, did I miss doll face?" Morgan whined. "I haven't seen her in ages."

Emily's face scrunched up as she sat down. "Isn't she the one that killed somebody?"

"We've all killed somebody, Princess," Morgan said cheekily.

"That's not funny," JJ said, swatting his arm. "But to answer your question, yeah, we think she killed one of our unsubs. There wasn't enough evidence to convict him, but he apparently attacked her and she was defending herself…"

"It was suspicious," Reid added.

"She's still in the FBI though?" Emily inquired.

"Yeah, she had dropped out but a few years ago they put her back on a desk job. She's at the New York field office now, I think. Working her way back up the ladder."

"She's sweet, just not exactly… stable," said Morgan.

Ashley Seaver leaned over the table and whispered to Blake, Garcia, and JJ in a hushed tone, "She _is _dancing with him!"

"Who?" Emily asked, smiling, as she noticed all of the scandalized looks on the girls' faces.

"Elle is dancing with the director's son," said JJ, clearly impressed.

"What, is he hot?" She didn't want to turn around for fear of making it obvious whom they were gossiping about.

"He's _gorgeous," _Garcia said, her eyes glued to him as they twirled around the dance floor.

"Hey, baby girl!" Morgan scolded. "Don't make me spank you when we get h–"

"Hello, agents, I trust you're all doing well tonight?" the voice of Section Chief Mateo Cruz asked from behind them just as Savannah smacked Morgan over the head with her clutch.

A look of shock crossed Morgan's, Savannah's, and Garcia's faces. Emily's eyes were wide and she was trying not to smile, clearly knowing her friends were in trouble.

"Hi, Mat, how are you?" JJ said flirtatiously, blue eyes sparkling.

"I'm great, JJ, and yourself?"

"Really good. You look nice tonight."

"And you look lovely, as always."

JJ hummed a little awkwardly with a sideways glance at her fiancé. Yeah, he was glaring at Cruz fairly viciously.

"Um," Cruz cleared his throat. "I just wanted to say hello. I'll see you all later, I suppose." He hurried away.

Morgan called after him, "Great to see you, sir!"

A few hours later, everyone was dancing. Garcia and Kevin, Alex and James, Morgan and Savannah, JJ and Rossi, even Reid and Ashley.

Emily sat at the table by herself, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when Hotch came up behind her from a several-hour-long conversation with Sam Cooper, the Unit Chief of the BAU Red Cell team.

He sunk into the chair next to her, sighing heavily.

"It's not even 10PM and I'm exhausted," he said and his eyes crinkled slightly. "Guess that means I'm officially old."

"You and me, both, sir," Emily agreed, eyes not leaving JJ and Rossi as they disappeared into the hallway. JJ was laughing as the Italian man guided her out of the room, his hand on the small of her back. They looked like they were up to no good.

"It's strange watching them, isn't it?" he seemingly read her mind.

She pulled her gaze away from the couple to look at her boss. There were little flecks of green in his irises that she'd never noticed before.

"Yeah, it is. I definitely did not it coming."

"Neither did we, and we were all here at the time." Her head tilted to the side. He went on, "There was a lot going on, especially with Strauss's death. Plus Morgan and Garcia were going through a weird patch in their relationship, and that was sort of taking up most of our attention. JJ was still reeling from Will leaving. Reid was spending a lot of time with her and Henry just to make sure they were okay, but then there was one weekend when he and I were up in Minnesota for a prison interview. We sent Rossi over to check up on her. She took the next week off of work and wouldn't tell anyone why, and then she and Rossi didn't talk to each other for a solid three or four weeks. And then they just subtly got closer and closer – we could tell because they started doing that little bickering thing that they do – but we didn't expect that they were involved romantically. Then we find out she's pregnant, and a few weeks later that he's the dad. You can imagine our shock. And I don't know, their relationship just sort of faded in from there until now. They still don't really act like they're together. Not in front of us, anyway."

"And Cruz is fine with it? Isn't Rossi technically our superior?"

"Technically, yeah. They're not really even supposed to be on the same team. But JJ is like the Cruz whisperer, I don't know how she does it. We haven't had any problems with him whatsoever."

"Hmm," Emily wondered. "D'you think he fancies her?"

"I don't know," Hotch admitted. "If he does, he won't act on it. I think they're just close friends, but other people have… Other opinions," he added, making it clear that by 'others' he meant Rossi.

Emily chuckled a little at that assessment. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments.

"Anyway, how come you're not dancing?"

"No one's asked me," Emily replied flatly. "I guess nobody thinks the forty-five-year-old pregnant FBI agent is very attractive."

"Not true," Hotch said, sipping his wine.

"What's not?"

"All of that. You don't turn forty-five until October. I highly doubt that anyone here can tell that you're pregnant, unless you've been telling people, which I also highly doubt." He paused. "And I think you look amazing tonight."

Emily felt a blush creeping onto her face, but she was pretty confident that the foundation Garcia had smeared all over her would cover it from showing. "Thanks," she answered, picking her thumbnail again. "You look really nice, too."

It could've been the dim lighting, but Emily swore she saw her boss's cheeks flush. He didn't reply.

A song ended, and the next one started.

"I'm sorry, I'm not good at this type of thing," Hotch said about thirty seconds later. "You probably think I'm being rude. Do you want to dance?"

"Oh–" Emily began, somewhat surprised. "Um–"

" –You don't have to say yes," Hotch assured her quickly, mistaking her surprise for hesitation, "I know you hate dances. Or, well, you used to."

"No, we can dance," Emily said, standing. He looked relieved.

They moved together onto the dance floor, and her arms went around his shoulders as his hands came to rest on her hips. She breathed in the familiar scent of his cologne –

– and started laughing.

"What's funny?" Hotch asked, a little insecure but not allowing his eyes to stray from her face, how beautiful she was when she laughed. How nice she looked in Hayley's old dress.

"Sorry, I was thinking about the first time we danced like this," she said, smiling. "D'you remember –"

"How could I forget?" Hotch said with that smile that only touched his eyes. "Twenty-year-old Emily Prentiss, daughter of the esteemed ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss, whom I, a rookie, had spent all week trying to impress with my security work, stumbles drunkenly into my arms and drags me onto the dance floor so that her mother doesn't realize she's been dipping into the vodka supply."

Emily laughed, shaking her head. "I almost forgot how _classy_ I used to be. But in my defense, my mother _was _coming up to me with Edwin Pentel, and there was _no way _I was getting myself roped into that."

Hotch laughed. "Whatever happened to him, anyway?"

"Oh, he inherited daddy's company and ended up married with three kids. Last I heard he's fucking his secretary and has a serious gambling problem."

"Yikes."

"Yeah," she smiled. "I like to think I'm better off having passed on that relationship."

"I'm inclined to agree," Hotch said teasingly.

Generally everyone in the BAU would switch off dance partners, but now that they were all officially paired up, Emily and Hotch spent the rest of the night dancing together without interruption. They talked and laughed – maybe flirted, a little – and then the gala was over.

They parted, Emily silently wishing for more and missing the gentle heat of his hands on her waist, as she gathered up her purse and shoes. Morgan came up behind her with Reid.

"Where's your partner in crime?" he asked with a mischievous grin. Reid looked nervous.

"Saw her sneak out with Rossi about an hour ago. Why?"

"Ew," said Morgan, making a face. "They still here?"

"I think so. JJ's purse is here."

"Go find her, then."

Emily, still unaware of their motives, did it anyway. She found the couple without too much effort. JJ's hairdo was a bit messier than Emily remembered it, and Rossi's tie was quite a bit looser, but the couple seemed to be sitting innocently outside underneath the building's overhang, watching the clouds hand in hand. It was supposed to storm.

"Hey, Jayje," Emily interrupted. "Morgan and Reid want us."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but it looked like trouble. Are you in?"

JJ looked at Rossi, who was pouting.

"You want to go, don't you?" he asked her.

"Boys are looking to get into trouble? Yeah, I definitely want to go."

"But you promised we'd go home and –"

JJ cut him off with a dirty look and a light slap to the arm. "If you let me go, I'll let you take me out next weekend," she bribed. When he didn't respond right away, she added, "I'll wear that black dress that you like –"

"Fine," he agreed. "I'm taking the car, though."

"Morgan has his," Emily said. "He can probably give us a lift."

"Perfect," JJ exclaimed. She patted Rossi's head and hopped up to follow Emily back inside. The found Morgan and Reid alone at the BAU table.

"Everybody gone home?"

"Mhmm."

"Want to explain why we're still here?" JJ prompted.

"I'll tell you when we get there," Morgan said cryptically. He got up and started walking and the others had no choice but to follow. Emily, JJ, and Reid exchanged nervous glances as they walked past the parking lot and down the block. Thunder and lightning cracked in the distance. It wasn't raining yet, but there was a dampness, an electricity, in the air that promised a storm was coming.

Morgan stopped suddenly a little way down the road. He dragged them to a fence that was marked 'No Trespassing'.

"Morgan, you're going to get us in trouble," Reid whined.

"Relax, pretty boy," Morgan teased. "Garcia and Kevin promised to cut the cameras. Besides, what are they gonna do, call the FBI on us?"

The other three looked even more alarmed as Morgan slipped under the fence, getting his tux a little dirty.

"Morgan," Reid whimpered.

"Come on, y'all trust me, don't you?"

"Usually," Emily muttered under her breath. The women exchanged glances, and then JJ got that look in her eye. She threw her heels over the fence and belly crawled under. When she stood up, there were leaves stuck in the pleats of her dress.

After this, Emily felt as though she had no choice but to go through next. Reid followed her closely. They trekked through a few hundred yards of woods and then came out between two houses –

Ahh, so that's where they were going.

"What are we doing in Hogan's Alley?" Reid asked as Morgan lead them down to the building where they stored all the supplies.

Morgan wordlessly handed each of them a paintball gun. Emily's and JJ's faces lit up.

"Oh my God," JJ squealed. "Are we really doing this?"

"This is my good tux," Reid complained.

"Don't get hit," Morgan suggested with a wink. "Boys against girls?"

JJ's face fell suddenly. "Em shouldn't play paintball pregnant."

"Aww," Emily pouted. "We've been talking about doing this for years."

Morgan frowned, turned around, and began to rummage through one of the closets. He pulled out a Kevlar vest that was several sizes too big for her and handed it over.

Emily pulled it on. It seemed to cover everything.

"Lookin' good," JJ laughed. "That Kevlar and ball gown combo is really in right now."

"No shooting me in the stomach," Emily warned them.

"Statistically speaking, the amniotic sac and fluids should be sufficient to cushion the fetus, and coupling that with the vest, there should be more than enough –"

"Sounds like a green light from the doc," Morgan cut him off. "Capture the flag. We'll take the north half of the road, and you take the south?"

"We want the north," JJ said. "What are boundaries?"

"Fences around, line down the middle of the road divides it in half?"

"Sure. Alright, kid, let's go. Game starts at midnight."

They all cleared out of the storage room.

"You worried about ruining your dress?" Emily asked JJ a few minutes later.

"Nah, it was cheap. You?"

"Well, it's not technically mine –"

"Oh, yeah. Hotch told me to tell you to keep it."

Emily stopped short. "You mean it _was _Hayley's?"

"Yeah," said JJ, opening the door to the fake bank. "I was going to tell you earlier but I knew you'd get all weird about it."

Emily scowled and was about to scold the blonde, but JJ said, "You think the bank safe is a good spot to hide the flag, or is that too obvious?"

"Too obvious. But let's ditch our heels here. They're way too loud."

"So," JJ began as they walked down the alley barefoot and entered a house from the back door. They walked up to the second story, where a ladder pulled down out of the attic. Emily and JJ crawled up and placed the flag on an old wardrobe that was stored there. "Did you dance with Hotch?"

"Why do you care?" Emily asked, trying to be snarky, but it was difficult because the hair on her neck was standing on end. Having been on the Hogan's Alley run dozens of times, Emily realized she really _did _expect an unsub to jump out at her any moment.

"Because… Garcia isn't wrong when she says I think you two would be good for each other."

"Oh, shut up."

"No, I'm serious. But Garcia will send me the pictures even if you don't want to tell me anything."

"Pictures?" Emily asked in disbelief. "Really? I didn't see her taking any –"

"She set up the cameras ahead of time, don't worry."

Emily groaned. "You two are out of control."

"Maybe," JJ agreed, eyes shining with happiness. She and Emily slinked around the corner of the house, guns at the ready, scanning the tree line as they waited for Morgan and Reid to try to cross into their side of the street.

"Can we play offense? Defense is boring."

"Let them make the first move," Emily decided. "Let's get on a roof. They won't hang around and wait for us to do something. We see where they're going, and then strategize a move from there."

"Good call."

They climbed to the top of the amphitheater roof – selected because it had two exits – and lied down close to the edge, waiting.

The BAU played capture the flag by different rules. You weren't safe anywhere, not even on your own half of the field. Getting shot in the torso meant you were out, but anything on the arms or legs you could keep going but couldn't continue to use that limb. Unless, of course, if the paintball were a real bullet, and it would've gone through an artery. Then you were out.

And of course, you _could _be shot point-blank. That was the scariest part of the game, even if they did all know perfectly well how to clear a room properly. The close-up shots would, of course, hurt like a bitch. But an unsub wouldn't hesitate to shoot within twelve feet, so neither would they.

They argued that playing this way made them better FBI agents.

"Em," JJ said very quietly. "They're crossing over."

Emily watched the boys belly crawling through some bushes and she stifled a laugh. "Can we hit them from here?"

"I doubt it. These aren't the sniper guns. We're good shots, but we aren't Mr. Marksman of the Year," she added, referring to the plaque that currently hung above Hotch's desk. "Plus if we get them from here, they'd barely even feel it."

Emily looked at JJ in surprise. "My, do we have a budding sexual sadist in our midst?"

"No, but I _do _like kicking Morgan's ass once in awhile. It's good for his ego."

Once they were sure that Morgan and Reid were inside and wouldn't see them, Emily and JJ scaled down to the floor level and silently crossed into a house on the other side of the street.

An hour or so later, they'd completed sweeping almost half of the street. The rain was coming down in buckets now, and both of the girls were drenched.

"Fuck," JJ breathed, her eyes trained on the bank. "I think Reid just saw us."

"Get inside," Emily said, dragging her friend into the nearest building; one of the old townhouses. "Do we hide?"

"Yes."

Emily dove behind an armchair that was nestled in the corner of the house's living room, and JJ ran upstairs and slid underneath the bed.

They waited in silence for a few minutes before they heard the muffled voices of the boys coming from outside the back door. That was good, at least. They'd expected that they'd come through the back instead of the front.

Emily held her breath as the door creaked slowly opened. Until now, she hadn't heard the soft splatter of the rain droplets dripping off of her, nor had she noticed the weird rubbing sound that the lace of her gown's sleeves made as they rubbed against the canvas of the Kevlar when she moved even the tiniest bit.

Apparently they hadn't heard her or noticed the trail of water that led right to her, because they silently passed Emily by and headed down the hallway towards JJ.

Even though Emily's hiding spot was obviously good, she knew she couldn't sit by and watch JJ get caught without getting in trouble with the blonde later. Plus, there was no fun sitting in one spot and watching instead of participating in the game.

Emily creeped up the stairs a few yards behind the boys, careful to have her gun at the ready in case one of them decided to turn around. They slipped into the bedroom where JJ was hiding. The house was eerily dead silent as Emily peeked into the doorframe –

– and then all of their phones went off at the same time.

Emily felt her heart jump up into her throat and Morgan let out a startled cry – all of them flinched like crazy, and JJ cursed loudly as she smacked her head on the underside of the bed.

More out of instinct than actual attempt to win, all four agents opened fire.

The boys were getting hit hard in the back thanks to Emily and also the ankles courtesy of JJ. As soon as they realized where the girls were, JJ and Emily started taking hits, too. Most of them got Emily in the vest, but a few got her arms, and then her legs once Morgan fell over.

"God fucking shit – stop shooting!" Morgan cried.

They ceased fire and sat there panting for a few seconds.

"Hello?" Morgan answered his phone breathlessly as JJ crawled out of her hiding spot. Her dress and arms were coated in blue and green paint splatters.

"Yeah, okay. I got 'em with me. Thirty minutes?" he repeated, looking at the state they were in. "Um, no. That's no problem. Okay, Hotch. I'll see you then – Hey, what the hell?"

JJ had taken the opportunity to snag the flag off of the ceiling fan – she'd finally spotted it when crawling out of her hiding spot – and she was running for the stairs with Emily chasing after her.

Reid shot JJ twice more in the back, but the blonde wasn't going down without a fight – she threw the flag to Emily as soon as they were on the driveway. Emily caught it, tripping on her dress just as Morgan shot her in the shoulder – but she tripped so that when she landed, skinning her elbow pretty badly, the fist with the flag clenched in it landed just over the yellow line dividing the two territories.

"No fair!"

"That's cheating!"

"You did it! I love you! Take that, Derek Morgan!"

"I did not cheat, my hand is clearly over the line!"

"Yeah, whatever," Morgan said. "Y'all both got shot before ever reaching that flag."

"You don't even know where our flag is," JJ shot back. "So we win!"

"No way, it doesn't count –"

" –Morgan, can we stop arguing and order those pizzas you mentioned earlier? I'm hungry."

"I am, too," Emily agreed.

"I could eat," said JJ. "But only if Morgan admits defeat."

"If I do, you'll have to buy the pizza."

"No way, losers buy!"

"Nobody's admitted they lost yet, so technically we haven't got a winner or a loser–"

" –You lost, Derek, just admit it and buy our damned pizza!"

Thirty(ish) minutes later, the four agents trekked up the stairs to the plane, pizzas in tow, all laughing as they entered the cabin.

"Oh my… What have you four been up to?" Blake asked as she laid eyes on them, amused.

Rossi and Hotch turned around and their expressions showed clearly that they were momentarily speechless.

Morgan, Reid, JJ and Emily were sopping wet, to begin with. JJ's and Emily's hair was no longer up in pretty up-dos; they looked like pinned up blobs with strands flying out at crazy angles. JJ's bun hung limply at the nape of her neck. Reid's hair seemed glued down to his forehead. Their suits and dresses clung to them, and the paint was everywhere – except on Emily's torso, which had been covered by the vest, and their heads. JJ's and Emily's arms were bare, and welts and bruises were beginning to show through the paint splotches. Both were barefoot and their feet were muddy, and makeup and rainwater was running down their faces.

Morgan entered last, as messy as the rest of them, with his suave smile and four large pizzas under his arm.

Hotch opened his mouth to say something, but Rossi beat him to it.

"Jennifer, I leave you alone for _two hours _and _this _is what comes back to me?"

JJ bit her lip and shrugged dramatically, looking not very sorry at all.

"I know I have no control over what happens with all of you outside of work," Hotch began, "But we have forty minutes until landing and I need to brief you and you need to get cleaned up."

"Sorry, mom and dad and dad," Morgan said pointedly, heading straight to the cabin's bathroom with his go bag.

"And we have to eat those pizzas," joked Reid in a rare display of borderline insubordination.

"And we have to eat the pizzas," Hotch agreed, a smile touching his eyes. "So hurry up and get yourselves presentable before they get cold."

"Yes, sir," they agreed merrily and hurried off to get dressed.

Emily may not have returned to the easiest job in the world, but she couldn't have been more grateful to have these people as her coworkers.


	20. Chapter 20

The team had the rest of the week off, and on Monday morning Emily had once again reluctantly dropped Declan back at school and went in to work. Right after their morning meeting, Hotch pulled her aside and she followed him up to his office.

"Sit," he told her, and she sunk into the chair-that-wasn't-Rossi's-chair. Hotch remained standing.

That should've been the first indicator that this meeting wasn't going to be pleasant.

"JJ called me a few days ago," he began.

Emily blinked, still unsure how this pertained to her.

"She's worried about you. And frankly I am, too."

Ahh, so that's what this was about. She should've known. She pursed her lips in distaste.

"She told me that you told her," Hotch admitted. "And we think – you're not going to like this – we think you should see a shrink."

"No."

"Prentiss –"

"No, Hotch. Seeing a shrink makes me feel even crazier than I probably already am. Plus what the hell would I say? I barely believe the damn story and it actually _happened _to me. They'd have me off of the team in an instant; it would sound like I'm making shit up."

"Language," Hotch reprimanded her offhandedly. He'd expected about this much. But he'd promised JJ he'd try to talk to her.

"Sorry," she mumbled completely insincerely. "But I'm not seeing a shrink."

He sighed. "Okay."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Okay?"

"I can't make you," he said, "It didn't happen on my watch. But you do need to talk to _us. _You will lose it eventually if you try to bottle it all up. I know you're not the type to talk about your feelings, but this is important. I want you going to coffee with either me or JJ every day for at least twenty minutes just to talk. About things not related to work."

"Are you _ordering _me to be social?" she asked incredulously, almost amused.

"I'm _ordering _you to let us look after you."

"Okay," Emily said after a moment. "I guess that's fair."

"Good. Also… What do you think about telling Rossi?"

"Why?"

"Because he's going to find out anyways. He snooped through your desk to look for proof that you were pregnant; he's a nosy son of a bitch, and –"

"Language," Emily scolded him just as he had her moments earlier. Hotch gave her that look, the one that he used when someone was being a little out of line.

"Anyways, it's not easy for me to keep a secret from him. I can't even imagine JJ trying to keep it quiet seeing as they live together. Plus, the two of you are pretty close. And I think it'd be good for you to have as big a support group as possible. And, he probably has some of it figured out already. Of course, it's up to you."

"I'll think about it," she promised.

"Good. Now go back down there, I think JJ is waiting to walk to the coffee shop with you."

She got up and was halfway out the door when Hotch called her name.

"Yeah?"

"Go easy on her. She really is just worried about you."

"No promises."

A week later Emily stopped worrying about her daily coffee runs. At first she'd been a little nervous – she didn't know how to talk about herself for twenty minutes – but it seemed like JJ was fine with gossiping about their work colleagues and talking about pregnancy, and Hotch hadn't grilled her too hard either. They mostly discussed Jack's sudden, desperate need for a puppy and talked about the baby a little bit, too.

But she should've known that just when she'd come to enjoy the mid-morning break, they would decide to turn up the heat. She was out with JJ, who, as soon as they sat down at their favorite corner booth, began, "I'm supposed to ask you about your time undercover."

Emily sighed. "Okay, what about it?"

"I don't know, just tell me about... him."

Emily's nose wrinkled. "I don't know if you really want to hear this, Jayje."

"I do. I want to hear whatever you're willing to tell me."

Emily hesitated for a second, and then she started. "I was undercover for three years all together."

"That's a long time," JJ prompted.

"Yeah. We'd started the taskforce in 2002; it was me, Clyde, Tsia, Jeremy Wolfe and Sean McAllister. We were supposed to bring down international criminals.

"In 2004, we were assigned to Ian. I was the one to go undercover because I was his type. I was only thirty-four. So while I ran around and tried to establish connections with weapons dealers all over Europe – we had some moles in position already, so it wasn't extremely difficult, but I still had to make a background and figure out who Lauren was before going all the way in – my team gained intel and figured out the best way to actually get in with him. That went on for maybe eight or nine months. Then it was time to actually meet. At first I was seriously freaking out – for some reason I thought he'd see right through me. But he didn't. We talked and then we'd meet up a few times in the next few weeks just to discuss business, but then, well, we ended up in a hotel room after one meeting."

Emily paused and looked up at JJ, but the blonde's expression didn't change. She continued, "It was terrifying the first time. I didn't know if I could do it without giving myself away, but… Apparently I can. It just doesn't feel right when you know you're pretending, especially knowing he was as dangerous as he was… But anyway, we started going to a hotel room after every meeting. And it got easier to be with him. He'd start to hold my hand or fix my hair or touch my arm in front of his people. Some of them didn't trust me, and he'd argue with them about it. After awhile I realized that he was actually falling in love with me, and I felt _really_ guilty about it. That was early in 2005.

"But I realized that because of how he felt, I could sort of open up to him like I hadn't really ever done before. I mean obviously I couldn't tell him about much, but… It _did _feel good to have someone to talk to, and to rely on. After another month or so I started to trust him – like, we got into a few sticky situations and I actually trusted him with my life.

"I moved in not long after that. He had to go on a trip, so I was by myself for the first two or three weeks – well, I mean, all the workers were still at the villa, but he was gone. I realized I actually missed him, which freaked me out a little bit, but I was too far in to quit. He came home and I stayed in his room with him, and I remember in the morning this little blonde thing came running in and jumped on the bed and was going on and on in Russian – this was before I knew Russian, so I had no idea what he was saying. He saw me and got all quiet. Ian chased him out and scolded him, came back apologizing. He told me he was the housekeeper's son. But I was completely enamored, so he introduced us properly later that day."

"How old was he?"

"Three," she said, smiling at the memory. "God, he was a cutie. When I wasn't out on a job or doing something with Ian, I was playing with Declan. And I realized that I was actually really happy playing house with them – I wasn't just an agent pretending to be a weapons dealer, I was also experiencing, I don't know," she said, hands flying as she tried to find the right phrase, "domestic bliss, I guess. I fell in love with Ian, with Declan, with the house and the countryside. Every once in awhile I'd remember that no matter how passionately happy I was, it was all just pretend. But I tried not to think about it, because for the first time in my life I actually felt like I knew what it was like to be _really _loved. And I know my mom cared about me when I was growing up, but I always felt like I was on the back burner with her. This was different – I was a priority.

"A year flew by and he gave me the Gimmel rings, which was basically a marriage proposal. And I realized that I actually really wanted to say yes. And that's when I knew that I wasn't pretending anymore. He was everything I'd ever wanted."

She was carefully avoiding eye contact now, and she paused. "Declan turned four and that's when Ian told me the truth, that Declan was his. He told me Declan needed a mother, and he asked me... He asked me to raise him."

"What'd you say?" JJ asked with the air of a child listening to a fascinating bedtime story.

"I told him I couldn't."

JJ's head tilted to the side. "What changed your mind?"

A tiny smile appeared at the corners of Emily's mouth as though this was the first time she'd thought of it like that. "I couldn't do it then. Not there. Life at the villa was paradise, but he wanted me to raise him to be a terrorist. And to raise a child specifically to be a criminal... Even Lauren couldn't agree to that."

"Was he angry?"

"Not really. He was upset about it, but... He never got truly angry with me, not once. I mean, not until after he got out of prison," she added awkwardly. "But no. He took off for a few days and came back, kissed me on the forehead and said he'd like me to help raise Declan anyway, and that he'd do whatever I wasn't comfortable with. So we sort of compromised by him telling me I didn't have to make Declan a criminal, but he would become one anyway. I knew he wouldn't be around long enough to actually raise Declan all the way, so fighting him was pointless. We went on with life after that, a couple more months passed and everything was the same except the three of us did a lot more together. That was around when I found out I was pregnant. One day we were at the beach, and I accidentally missed my meeting with Clyde. And the next day there was a black car pulling into the villa's drive and they yanked me inside while Ian watched – they didn't cuff me or anything – and that's when he figured out what I really was. They arrested him right after.

"I was absolutely livid with Clyde – they'd given me no indication that my job was done. I mean, I knew we were getting close, but... Apparently they'd realized I was in way too deep and they stopped trusting me. Once they got me back to headquarters, I disappeared as quickly as possible and called Louise to tell her to get Declan the hell out of there. Interpol did a sweep and arrested everyone that was there only a few minutes after they'd left. I was allowed to go back and get my things, and that was the end. The best two years of my life, an incredible relationship and the sweetest little boy, and suddenly it just came to a screeching halt and I was by myself again. I lost everything all at once.

"I didn't know what to do. I gave all of my interviews and told Clyde I was resigning. Then I met up with Louise and Declan and staged their deaths and moved them to Virginia, and I got a desk job at the DC field office to be close to them and because I was going to have the baby. I didn't want to spend time with Declan because I knew if they could trace him back to Ian in any way, they would try to hurt him. So I distanced myself. I missed Ian so much that it physically hurt, but it wasn't like I could tell anyone that without screwing my career over. So I spent a lot of time by myself. After I miscarried I knew I couldn't sit at a desk – not after being out of one for so long – so I started looking for other positions. Two weeks later a spot opened up at the BAU, and you know the rest."

JJ didn't say anything, but she watched Emily with wide eyes.

"I know I need to move on," the brunette said sadly, "but I don't know how when even the tiniest things remind me of him. And now that I have Declan and this one," her hand dropped to her stomach, "it just seems like I'm constantly expecting him to waltz through the door with a bouquet like he used to. I'm pretty sure forgetting him is no longer an option, and honestly I don't want to try because that makes it seem like I regret him, and I don't. He showed me how strong love can be. I'll never forget it."

She hesitated, and then asked almost inaudibly, "Is it wrong that I love him?"

"No," JJ answered quickly and more certainly than Emily expected. "I don't think so."

"He was a killer."

"Not to you. Around you he was just himself. Did you ever see any other side of him?"

"No, but I knew that the other side existed. I just was in denial about it."

JJ shrugged. "If you never saw it in person, it isn't real to you."

"I guess."

"Do you remember Frank Breitkopf?"

Emily looked up at her, confused. "The man that killed Gideon's girlfriend?"

JJ nodded. "I don't know why, but this has always stuck with me. You were talking to Jane in the interrogation room, and she asked you if loving Frank was wrong. After everything we'd seen, everything that we _knew _he'd done, I expected you to say yes. But you didn't. You thought about it for a second and then you said 'You don't choose who you fall in love with.'"

Emily nodded along. "I was thinking of him then," she said softly.

"Well, you're the one that told Jane that. And if you believe it – I do, and I think you do, too – then you need to realize that it applies to you, too. You didn't wake up one morning and _decide _to fall in love with Ian," JJ said, and Emily noticed it was the first time anyone else on either of her teams had called him by his first name, "but you did. I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

"Thanks, JJ."

"For what?"

"Just... For listening. Understanding."

"Anytime."


	21. Chapter 21

Emily silently set the alarm on her cell phone and placed one earbud in her left ear. She was completely aware of tomorrow's date, and it was for that reason that she was going to force herself to get up at 11:55 PM, just to be safe.

Tomorrow's date was April 1, and although no one on the team had mentioned it, she knew that that certainly didn't mean anything.

For the agents of the BAU, April Fool's Day meant only one thing: war.

There was exactly one rule: 12:00 AM, to 11:59 PM. That's all. Not before, not after. And that resulted in one thing: twenty-four hours of constant vigilance and absolute paranoia.

So she wasn't really surprised when her alarm went off at 11:55 to see that JJ, Morgan, and Hotch were also stirring. Hotch pulled out some paperwork and began to fill it out. He rarely participated in the pranking war; he just didn't want to be pranked, and therefore he was awake as early as the others. JJ left with a mischievous smile towards the part of the jet where Blake and Reid were presumably sleeping.

With a wink, Morgan reached over to Rossi and carefully pulled out his earbuds, just a second before they emitted the whisper of a shrill alarm. Emily giggled quietly and gave Morgan a silent high five, while Hotch watched and chuckled softly. Then Emily and Morgan stepped quickly away from one another.

The only way to survive the war was to trust no one.

There was surprisingly little action on the jet that morning. By the time they landed at 3:00 AM, only one prank had occurred.

Rossi was now sporting a large, Sharpie-drawn handlebar mustache complete with a matching unibrow.

Which, JJ happily reported when they returned to the office at 8:00 for the work day, Rossi hadn't noticed until Henry had questioned him.

"So then," JJ said, giggling slightly, "Dave stomped off to the bathroom to try to get it off, and I explained to Henry what April Fool's Day is."

"What'd he say?" Morgan asked, his feet propped up on the table as he sipped his Starbucks latte.

"Nothing! He just gave us this evil giggle and ran upstairs. I have no idea what he thinks he's going to do."

"Aww, my little G-man wants to get in on the April Fool's day drama!" Garcia said happily, entering with a tray full of steaming Styrofoam cups of coffee. She placed it down on the table in the middle of all of the agents, and they each reached forward and grabbed the one with their specific order written on the side.

They all sipped at about the same time. And then, they all spit their coffee - or whatever it was that was actually in their cups - out at the same time, spraying their almost completed paperwork with purplish brownish liquid that smelled exactly like coffee.

Garcia, in the meantime, was rolling on the floor laughing.

Literally.

"Oh my _God!" _

"I'm gonna be sick -"

"_What the actual fuck is that?!_"

"BABY GIRL I AM GOING TO KILL YOU."

JJ had her fingers tightly pinching her nose shut and her tongue hanging out of her mouth, Morgan was scraping his tongue with his fingernails, and Emily was doubled over, gaging. The look on Reid's face was absolutely priceless - or it would've been, had anyone actually been watching.

Just then, Rossi, Blake and Hotch entered the Round Table room. They exchanged confused glances - which made Garcia laugh harder, because Rossi still had a moustache drawn on his face - and when Hotch reached for his cup on the table, Emily felt obligated to scream, "IT'S NOT COFFEE!"

Hotch gave her a grateful look.

"That," Rossi said, "Explains a lot."

After splitting up the files, they all headed back to their desks.

Emily and JJ giggled and Rossi sat down and his chair made a farting noise.

"A whoopi cushion?" he said, raising his eyebrows doubtfully. "Really? What is this, first grade?"

He tossed it into the trash can beside his desk.

"What the... hell..." Morgan said slowly and confusedly as he sat down at his desk.

His desk was covered in doilies, large vases of flowers, and an insanely large amount of pink items. Even his chair was replaced with a pink lace one.

"Morgan, your grandma called and she wants her chair back," Rossi called tauntingly.

"David Rossi, you son of a -"

Rossi left with a wink.

"Oh ho-ho, the famous David Rossi has got me..." Morgan mumbled creepily to himself, sliding opened his desk drawer to grab a pen. "Not today, sir, oh no, not today..."

JJ and Blake exchanged concerned looks.

"SON OF A BITCH!" Morgan shouted suddenly. Emily jumped and dropped her pen, and Reid nearly fell off of his chair.

"What the hell -" JJ snapped, startled, turning to Morgan.

Morgan was holding a flowery pink pen in his hand, and a cloud of glitter was settling around him.

Emily giggled, and Morgan gave her a look that could kill.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the bullpen from the direction of Garcia's office.

JJ and Emily turned to one another and smirked.

"What did y'all do to my baby girl?" Morgan asked accusingly.

"WHO DARES DISRESPECT THE ORACLE OF KNOWLEDGE BY WRAPPING HER LAIR IN THIS EVIL SILVER STUFF?!" she shrieked, coming towards them as fast as her hot pink pumps would carry her, with a ball of tinfoil clenched in her left hand.

Morgan, JJ, Emily, Blake and Reid all looked at one another. To the profilers, it was quite obvious that Emily and JJ were guilty, but Garcia couldn't tell. She simply glared at each person for about ten seconds, waiting for someone to crack.

Eventually, Morgan sighed, rolling his eyes. "Alright, mama, let's go get your office de-tinfoiled."

"It was you?! Derek Morgan, how could you?!"

"What? No, no, sweetness, it wasn't me -"

"Clean it up!" she shouted, grabbing his ear and dragging him back towards her lair.

As soon as they were out of sight, Emily and JJ burst out laughing, and Blake chuckled quietly, shaking her head at them. Reid sat, smirking a little while reading his report.

Two hours later, the BAU gathered together around the little table in the cafeteria that they frequented when they were at headquarters and when their paperwork wasn't too overwhelming - which wasn't very often.

The table was a small circle that they somehow managed to squeeze eight chairs around, elbows bumping as left handed people and right handed people ate beside one another, knees knocking together underneath the table as they crossed and uncrossed and stretched their legs, the fragrances of various different take-out food items mixing, causing Emily's nose to wrinkle as her stomach turned.

Everyone talked and laughed happily, only slightly on guard, since lunch on April Fools' Day was usually relatively uneventful.

The real drama came afterwards.

For now, Blake was scribbling happily on a crossword puzzle, Garcia was flirting with Morgan, JJ was arguing with Rossi, Reid was spewing facts to Hotch, who was staring at Emily, who was quietly eating her usual lunch of pineapple and Mentos.

Just like any regular day.

"God damn - JJ, is this your idea of some type of a sick joke? This isn't funny!"

Rossi sat with a raw egg cracked open and oozing everywhere.

JJ was doubled over laughing. "Oh my God! It wasn't me! I think I know who it was, though! Remember Henry this morning?"

"You're telling me your sweet, innocent five-year-old is capable of this type of sick joke?" Rossi accused doubtfully. "This is twisted! He would never think of this!"

"Oh, yeah? Guess who asked Mommy if he could help make 'Davey's lunch' this morning? I've raised a monster!"

The walk back to the office are later was silent. After lunch was danger time - each of the agents had crept off at some point during their lunch break, and their absences hadn't gone unnoticed.

Emily and JJ reached the door first, and like a gentleman, Morgan leaned forward to open it for them.

He quickly withdrew his hand. "Aww, God!" he said, disgusted as he wiped his hands on his jeans. "What is that?"

Emily reached forward and touched the doorknob, and then looked at her fingertips. She rolled her eyes. "It's just lotion, Morgan. Calm your tits." She rubbed the lotion in.

"Ooh," JJ squealed excitedly. "Is that cucumber melon?" She took a large amount of the lotion off of the doorknob and rubbed it on her hands. Realizing there was too much there, she leaned forward towards Morgan, and wiped it all on his jacket.

"Aww, come on, JJ!" he said, quickly trying to wipe it off. "Now I smell like a woman!"

Reid sniffed exaggeratedly. "Wow, Morgan, I think that's a definite improvement," he smirked.

"Oh-ho," Garcia laughed, slapping hands with Reid, and earning a glare from Morgan.

Once enough lotion was removed from the door handle to allow it to open, the team filed in to their respective desks and sat down to work on more case reports.

Emily opened her desk drawer and sighed. "Really, JJ?"

"Hmm what?" JJ asked, looking up with an expression of false innocence.

"Don't play dumb, I know you're in the middle of re watching _The Office_," she accused as she pulled her stapler out of the drawer. It was in a mound of Jell-O.

Morgan looked up. "Damn, Jayje, that actually works and you didn't tell me?"

Three minutes later, Hotch came back down the stairs into the main room of the building.

"Okay, where'd you guys put it?" he asked, barely stifling a smile.

"Where'd we put... what?" Morgan asked, leaning back in his chair and sipping his coffee.

"Seriously, guys. Who has it?"

"Who has _what, _Hotch?" JJ asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Hotch gave them an are-you-kidding-me-look.

"Okay, does _anyone _know what he's talking about?" Emily asked, turning to her fellow profilers. "Reid, Blake?"

Reid shook his head.

"No idea," said Blake as she continued to scribble on her crossword puzzle, beginning to grow more and more frustrated with it.

"SON OF A BITCH," suddenly echoed throughout the bullpen, causing them all to jump, and Reid to drop his pencil.

Morgan instantly began to chuckle.

"What'd you-" Hotch began, but by that point, Rossi was already storming into the room from the men's bathroom.

"Brutto figlio di puttana! Che cazzo? Si pensa che questo sia divertente? Non è! Questo è così sbagliato!" Rossi was screeching in Italian. "Tu sei un stronzo!" he yelled, jabbing a finger in Morgan's direction.

Morgan looked slightly frightened, having no idea what Rossi was saying.

Emily and Blake, who were fluent in Italian, doubled over laughing.

Rossi took a sudden turn to the left and wasn't seen for the rest of the day.

"What'd you do?" JJ asked Morgan, tears in her blue eyes from laughter.

"I put syran wrap over the toilet," Morgan said, laughing at his own trick. "I suggest you men use a different bathroom for the rest of the day, cuz-"

"Okay, that's disgusting, but seriously," Hotch interrupted. "Who has my chair?"

"Your chair?" Emily repeated, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean my chair is missing and one of you took it."

The team exchanged glances. Hotch knew immediately that none of them were guilty.

"Was it Rossi?" Reid suggested.

"I doubt it," JJ said. "That's not his style."

"Maybe Garcia?"

"I'll check with her," Hotch said, "But I kind of doubt it."

Once he was gone, the agents immediately exchanged glances again.

"No one here did it?"

"No."

"Wasn't me."

"Not me."

Soon Garcia came rushing back into the room with Hotch on her tail, trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

"WHO DID THIS?" Garcia roared angrily as she stopped in the room, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at them.

"Garcia, I need my chair back-"

"Shut up!" she said dismissively. A look of shock crossed her face and she turned around to look at Hotch, who had an almost identical expression on his face. "I'm so sorry. I meant, please silence yourself, Sir."

Before Hotch could respond, she turned back towards the group. "Who sent me _this?" _she asked, shoving a sheet of paper towards them.

It was a picture of her favorite Dr. Who mug shaped like a tardis, with a note that read, "I have a hostage."

"I've never seen that before in my life."

"Wasn't me."

"I bet it was Kevin," Morgan suggested, turning back to his report.

"Oh, yeah. Probably."

"Totes was Kevin."

"KEVIN LYNCH YOU WILL FEEL MY WRATH!" Garcia shrieked, running towards the FBI elevator to get to the floor where Kevin worked.

After a moment of ringing silence, Hotch looked back towards the team. "I need a chair."

"Take Rossi's," Blake suggested absentmindedly.

Hotch stared at it for a minute, picked it up, and carried it back to his office.

When Hotch sat down on the chair, he took a moment to be grateful that no one from his team had been there to hear the Whoopi cushion.

An hour later, Cruz walked into their office area. Each agent immediately straightened up, and Morgan attempted to sweep some of the glitter that was still on his desk into the drawer.

They all saw Cruz raise a skeptical eyebrow at Morgan's feminine desk, but he didn't comment on it.

"Sorry to bother you, agents," he began, "But my printer ran out of paper and there isn't any more in the supply closet. Do you mind?"

"We wouldn't," Morgan said. "But there isn't any in ours either. We've all been printing to Anderson's office."

"Alright, thanks," he said, walking down the hallway towards Anderson's office.

The clock dinged announcing that it was five o'clock, time to go home. The agents packed up their purses and briefcases and pulled on their jackets. They were all getting onto the elevator when they heard the splash.

"Oh, no," Morgan said as they heard Cruz's responding enraged cry.

"What did you do?" JJ asked, her blue eyes wide in horror.

"Get in the elevator," Morgan said quickly, pushing Blake in, and then pushing JJ in. He herded Reid and Emily in as they heard footsteps squishing towards them from the direction of Rossi's office.

"Close the door," Morgan instructed no one frantically.

"It'll close, give it a -"

"CLOSE THE DOOR," he said, slapping the close button repeatedly and frantically.

The door slid shut, and the agents fell silent.

"What was that about?" Emily asked, confused.

"I put a bucket of water over Rossi's office door," said Morgan, his expression of horror slowly being replaced by one of amusement. "Anderson must've run out of paper, and sent Cruz to Rossi's."

"You dumped a bucket of water onto our Section Chief?" Hotch asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I was trying to dump it on Rossi!" Morgan said defensively.

"Okay, guys... I think this got a little out of hand this year. Let's tone it down a bit for next year, alright?"

"Alright, Hotch," they all agreed.

When they got out of the building and into the parking lot, the first thing they saw was Garcia standing there in the cold, simply staring at the top of the building.

"Penelope Garcia, what are you -" Morgan began, following her gaze. "Oh, damn."

The team turned to stare at the twelve story high roof, where Hotch's chair sat in all its swiveling glory.

"Hotch, man," Morgan began, turning to Hotch.

"You know what?" Hotch said calmly. "I don't even care. Goodnight." He got in his car and drove away as the rest of the agents watched in amusement.


	22. Chapter 22

"I'm going in," Reid told Emily as they pulled up to the warehouse where their unsub was hiding.

"Wha – Reid!" she argued as he loaded his gun. "I think we need to wait for back up –"

"– We don't have time to wait for back up. There's two women in there being tortured."

"Reid, please wait," she begged. They didn't even have their vests. They were supposed to be notifying the previous victims' parents that they'd been found dead, and they just happened to be the closest ones to the warehouse when the call went out.

"I'm going around back."

"Well then I'm coming with you," Emily began, starting to check her gun.

"Absolutely not," he said sternly, starting to walk across the parking lot. "Think of that baby."

She took two more steps toward him and then stopped short. "Reid, please come back."

The sound of distant sirens filled the air.

"They'll be here in a minute," he told her. "I'll be fine, I promise."

He disappeared around the back of the warehouse, and she lost sight of him.

A few minutes later three gunshots rang out in quick succession.

"Reid!" Emily cried. She was furious with herself for allowing him to leave, and she was standing in the parking lot with tears running down her face when the police department and the rest of her team pulled in. "Reid went in," she prattled to Hotch and Rossi. "He went in and I told him not to but he did anyways and there were gunshots a minute ago and I don't know if he's okay."

Hotch, Rossi, Morgan and JJ rushed to get inside the warehouse, and Blake stayed behind, wrapping an arm around Emily's shoulders.

"I would've gone in but I don't have my vest and I can't risk the baby –"

" – I know, honey," Blake reassured her. "You did the right thing, it's okay."

The next few minutes seemed to last an eternity. Memories of Reid were rushing through her head and she was paralyzed with the fear that she'd never see him again. They called for the paramedics, indicating the situation had been stabilized, and Rossi came jogging out.

"Is he –" Blake started.

"He's down," Rossi said. "He's alive, but he's bleeding a lot and he was out when we got there. Took the unsub down with him. Both girls are dead. They're going to rush him to the ER – I don't know what's going to happen."

Emily let out a sob and Rossi pulled her into his arms. "This isn't your fault, gattina. You know that, right?"

She buried her face in his shoulder.

They followed the ambulance to the hospital, racing down the streets with sirens blaring, hardly daring to breathe. They followed the paramedics with the gurney until they reached the double doors leading back into the ER, and then they fell back, clinging to one another, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping.

"Did anyone call Ashley?" JJ asked. It still wasn't confirmed that they were together - and no one really thought that they were, at least not yet - but the genius and their old intern were definitely nearing best friend status, and she needed to know that he was hurt.

"Garcia's on it."

After a few minutes, Hotch turned to Emily.

"You need to go get checked out."

Her gaze, which had still been glued to the doors that Reid had just disappeared through, flitted up to meet his. "Why?"

"Because you're under extreme emotional stress right now and that isn't good for the baby."

"I'm not – I'm fine, Hotch. I need to stay here and see if Reid's okay."

He glanced around at the other agents, clearly not wanting to make a scene. Their gazes darted away, giving them a few seconds of false privacy at best.

"I don't know, Prentiss, I really think you should at least go get checked," he said in a low tone.

"I'll get checked when I know what's happening with Reid."

"That could be hours from now."

"I know."

"I could go with you," JJ offered quietly.

Emily looked over at her. JJ's white blouse and face were covered in bloody spray – probably Reid's, she realized with a twist in her gut.

"Hotch is right," JJ continued. "It'd be good for you to see a doctor."

Her brown eyes went wide and her hand dropped to clutch her swelling abdomen. "The baby – the baby's fine," she said, but her expression and tone of voice revealed that she was starting to panic. What if the baby wasn't fine?

"Em, it's okay," JJ said, touching her arm. "I'm sure the baby _is_ alright, but let's just go have a doctor make sure, okay?"

Emily nodded and allowed JJ to lead her out of the waiting room and to an information desk.

The eyes of the nurse attendant popped open when she saw the blood on JJ. "Ma'am, do you need a wheelchair?"

"Wh – no, I'm fine. The blood isn't mine. We're wondering if we can get an emergency ultrasound?"

"Oh," the nurse exclaimed, looking somewhat relieved. "Of course. If you go down that hallway and go up to the fourth floor, you can go across the skywalk, and then…"

They were in the examination room for a few minutes waiting, and then the doctor came in. "Miss Prentiss?" he asked, looking from JJ to Emily. Emily stood, a smile twitching on her lips when she heard JJ hiss under her breath, "_Agent _Prentiss." The smile disappeared almost instantly; she was still too worried about Reid.

"Nice to meet you," the doctor said, shaking her hand. "I'm Dr. Ellers. The chart says you're twenty-three weeks along?"

"Yeah."

"And this indicates you have some abdominal scar tissue from a past trauma?"

"Um, yeah. But my doctor says that probably won't block the ultrasound until around thirty weeks?"

He nodded in agreement. "Okay, why don't you hop up on the table and we'll check it out."

Emily was going to tell JJ not to look at the scar, but there was no need. JJ knew about Emily's insecurity over her injuries, so her big blue eyes were already eagerly on the sonogram screen waiting for the image to appear.

"There she is," Dr. Ellers said after moving the wand around a bit, when the picture finally popped up. The baby waved its little fist around in response to the probing.

"Aww," JJ cooed happily from her position next to Emily's head.

Emily couldn't take her eyes off of the screen. She'd had plenty of sonograms already – her pregnancy was considered high risk, due to the scar tissue in her abdomen – but this was one of the newer, high-tech machines, and she could actually make out her baby's face.

"The heartbeat is elevated," the doctor told her. "That's probably from the extra cortisol, but it isn't necessarily rare for pregnant women to get stressed. It isn't really a big risk until your severely heightened stress lasts for several hours. But for now, other than that, baby and mom look healthy. If in a few hours you still feel like your heart is racing, you might want to come back just to double check. But I'm confident that you'll be fine."

They thanked the doctor and he handed Emily the new photograph, and then they hurried back to the rest of the team.

Nearly two hours passed. Rossi prayed, Morgan drummed his knuckles on the arm of his chair, JJ tapped her foot in an almost desperate manner. Blake just stared at the clock with a concerned look on her face. Emily was picking off her third fingernail of the night, her eyes occasionally following Hotch as he paced back and forth.

The doctor came out and they all snapped to attention, standing.

"You all here for Spencer Reid?"

"Yes, sir, we are," Hotch replied solemnly.

"Well I'm glad to say we've stabilized him."

They all relaxed enormously, tension leaving their muscles and sighs of relief escaping their lips.

"He's not completely out of the woods yet, but he got very lucky. If the bullet had gone even an eighth of an inch farther to the right, it would've gone straight through his femoral artery, and he would've bled out in minutes. Luckily it only nicked it. He still lost pretty much blood, but it wasn't life-threatening because the bullet lodged itself in a way that actually plugged the blood flow. It might be awhile before he regains use of that leg, but I'm certain he'll make a full recovery. He should be up and running on crutches in a few days."

They thanked the doctor and then fought with each other over who would go in to visit him first. In the end, JJ and Emily were victorious.

They went into his hospital room as soon as he woke up. He lied in the bed looking nauseated with a huge bandage around his leg.

"Hey, Reid," JJ said gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," he mumbled, somewhat loopy.

"Does your leg hurt?"

"Why would m'leg hurt?"

"Because you just had surgery on it."

"Who had surgery?"

"You did," JJ said, trying not to laugh. "Don't you remember getting shot?"

"I got shot?"

"Yeah, in your leg."

He looked down at his leg and appeared very surprised to see the bandage around it. "Oh."

He peered back up at JJ, seeming to take in her appearance for the first time. "Is that my blood?"

"Yeah, you ruined my favorite shirt," she said accusingly. "I don't know if I'll ever forgive you."

"Spencer Reid, if you ever run into a hostage situation by yourself again I'm going to kill you personally," Emily threatened him, although it wasn't too genuine, because he was still mostly out of it from all the painkillers he was on. "You scared me to death."

He didn't reply; he was watching the door.

Morgan pushed his way into the room then – apparently they weren't going to follow the two-person limit – and he didn't say anything, he just looked down at Reid and shook his head in disappointment.

"You ruined it, Pretty Boy. We almost broke our record. We only had to make it four and a half more weeks."

Emily looked up at Morgan, confused. "Four and a half weeks for what?"

"For that to be our longest run without anyone in the BAU getting shot."

JJ turned to the kid and scowled. "Come on, man. I've been dodging bullets for years _exclusively_ so that we could break that record!"

"That's the only reason you're dodging bullets?" Emily asked, laughing.

"Yes."

"The pain and the surgeries and the horrible recovery don't phase you, huh?"

"I dunno, I've never been shot."

Morgan and Emily looked at her in shock.

"Are you serious?" Morgan asked as he and Emily both thought back through the years and realized that she really hadn't.

"You lucky bitch," Emily said wistfully. "I've been shot three times."

"This is my fourth," Reid mumbled. He seemed to understand what was happening better now.

"I've been twice," said Morgan. "You've got to be the only one – hell, even Garcia has been shot."

"Damn, JJ, you need to try harder," Emily accused jokingly.

"I think you're all the ones not trying hard enough," she shot back. "Maybe try jumping out of the way for once."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Fuckin' hero complexes," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that just now?" Morgan asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Nothing, nothing."

"Good. Cuz you may not have been shot yet, Blondie, but that is subject to change," Morgan threatened sassily. "We all carry guns. So you better watch your back."

"You don't scare me."

He made a move like he was going to fight her, and Reid threw up the arm that didn't have an IV in it as a shield and cried, "Please no wrestling on my hospital bed!"


	23. Chapter 23

Forty-eight hours later they were in Sacramento, California to investigate a series of murders of drug addicts, prostitutes, and homeless people. Eight people had been murdered irregularly over a course of four months, and they hadn't been called in earlier because the unsub's MO changed each time he killed, but now the Sacramento PD had discovered a signature.

Now, however, the team was gathered at the Sacramento Police Department to go over the case and to figure out what they were going to be doing that day.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," said Hotch. Blake slid a crossword back into her pocket, and the other agents put down their Styrofoam cups of coffee to see what their unit chief had to say.

"Reid and Blake, you two go to the morgue and see if you can find any similarities between the wounds on our last two victims. Morgan and JJ, you go down to the dump site. See if you notice anything specific that might tell us who this guy is. Rossi, you and I will go to the burial site where they found the first two bodies."

Hotch moved towards the exit.

"Um, Sir?" Emily called questioningly. "What do you want me to do?"

Hotch turned back towards the group and looked at Emily as though he was slightly surprised that she was there.

"Right, Prentiss," he said after a moment. "You stay here and keep in contact with Garcia."

Her eyebrows shot up. That was pretty much the equivalent of telling her to sit and twiddle her thumbs. "Sir, with all possible respect, I could easily keep in touch with Garcia while doing something out in the field-"

"I know you could, but I'm asking you to stay here. Go over the case file with the head detective and start mapping out the kidnapping sites and the dump sites. This guy is familiar with the area, see if you can work a geographical profile."

"Okay," Emily agreed hesitantly, head still cocked in confusion.

Hotch turned around and left quickly. Rossi looked at Emily and shrugged before following the unit chief out of the room. Blake and Reid quickly followed.

"Any idea what that was about?" Morgan asked as he and JJ headed towards the door.

"Not a clue," Emily said, still staring at the door after Hotch in a slight daze. "I've never done a geographical profile by myself in my life."

"Well, I guess with an odd number, it was bound to happen eventually," Morgan said dismissively, exiting the room.

"Yeah, but Reid can't even walk right now. How come he gets to go out and I don't?"

JJ grimaced and shrugged sympathetically, following Morgan out.

A few nights later, the team was taking shifts patrolling the streets and sleeping in their hotel rooms. JJ and Emily were in their room watching a late night re-run of _Friends_, seeing as neither of them could fall asleep. JJ sat on her bed fixing the chips in her fingernail polish, while Emily sat on the other bed absentmindedly rubbing circles around her slightly-expanding abdomen. A large bowl of popcorn sat on the night table between them, untouched.

During a commercial, JJ sighed and leaned her head back, exasperated.

Emily turned to look at her blonde friend. "You okay?"

"Yeah," JJ said, cracking her neck. "I'm just frustrated with this case. We're not getting anywhere."

"Yeah," Emily agreed, because it was true. They'd been there almost two days and they still didn't have the slightest clue who their unsub was.

Silence fell over the pair again.

A few minutes later, Emily broke the silence by asking, "Hey, does Hotch seem... _weird_ to you?"

JJ looked at Emily and then looked back at the TV. "I think he's in protection mode again."

"_Protection _mode?" Emily asked, raising her eyebrows.

"That's what me and the boys call it. Every once in a while he'll be fine one day, and then the next day no one is allowed to go anywhere alone, like _ever, _and we've all got to check our guns an extra time, and he's calling us every hour. Even with the pairings, it's always Blake and Reid, me and Morgan, and him and Rossi."

Emily considered this for a moment. "How long has that been happening?"

JJ shrugged. "On and off since the Replicator."

"Oh," Emily said, looking back towards the TV screen. She'd heard all about the replicator case: Hotch even called her once or twice to make sure she was on guard, in case the team stalker came for her, too.

The case had sounded nasty, and honestly, it was one of those ones she was glad she hadn't been around for.

"Are you mad at him?" JJ asked.

"Kind of," Emily admitted. "I don't get why he's doing it."

"Because Reid got shot."

"Well it isn't exactly the first time one of us has been shot. It doesn't explain why he's making me sit by myself at the station constantly. I haven't been in the field at all. It isn't my fault Reid got hurt. He's the one that went in without backup and without a vest. So how come I'm the one in the dog house?"

"I think he's just trying to protect you," JJ said, knowing that Emily probably wouldn't like that idea. "It could just as easily have been you in there, and who knows what would've happened with the baby."

Emily frowned. "I get that. But it doesn't mean I can't go look at a dump site or visit the coroner's office. My doctor cleared me to do that kind of stuff, so why does Hotch think he can tell me I can't?"

"Maybe you should ask him that."

She snorted. "Yeah, that'd go over well."

"I think he would listen to you. He does value your opinion."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do. Try talking to him tomorrow and just see what he says. Even if he doesn't let you in the field, he'll have to explain his reasoning."

The next day, she and Hotch were driving around Sacramento trying to find the home of the last victim. He finally let her do something other than sit at the station, but he still wouldn't let her out of his sight. She was sulking and staring out the window when Hotch's cellphone rang.

"Hotchner," he answered. "What? ...No. ...Because I said no!... Rossi, you know it's not safe for us to go wandering around alone... Well that was before!... I'm saying no. The answer is no. JJ and Morgan will be back soon, wait for them... That's an order." He hung up.

"Pull over," Emily instructed him suddenly.

"What? Why?" he asked, seeming slightly concerned. "Are you sick again?"

Emily snorted. "No."

"Then why...?"

"Just do it, Hotchner!"

Slightly startled by her sudden and _loud_ command, he reluctantly and curiously obeyed. "Okay, why am I pulled over?"

"Listen to me. I don't know what your problem is, but I think we have to talk about it. Right now."

"My _problem?_" Hotch asked, outraged.

"Yes, your _problem!_" Emily argued. "You've been _so _on edge lately, Hotch, you're freaking out about nothing and yelling at everyone and you're not letting anyone go anywhere by themselves, and -"

"That's procedure!" Hotch fought back. "We're not _supposed _to go anywhere alone, and –"

"Don't try to pull that crap, you know perfectly well that we're all two hundred percent capable of driving an SUV to meet other agents and cops at a crime scene-"

"Prentiss, I don't need you talking to me like -"

"We can't have a leader that doesn't trust us to do simple tasks, like we're some sort of-"

"Enough!"

Emily jumped and flinched away from him.

Hotch put the car back into drive and they got back onto the road, sitting in an awkward silence as Emily blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to hold back a flood of tears.

Hotch was fuming silently, clenching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. _How dare she talk to me like that? Who the hell does she think she is, anyway? Just because she was a unit chief in London doesn't mean that she can come back here and - oh, holy hell, she's crying again._

Sighing inwardly, he thought _I'm such a goddamn softy_ as he pulled over again.

"Prentiss, listen, I'm sorry that I yelled, but you know I can't have my agents questioning my decisions-"

"I know, Hotch. I'm sorry, too. It's just that I don't understand why you're acting like this... you never used to. Did I do something to piss you off? Because you're treating me like a rookie, and it _sucks._ I feel like... well, I feel like you don't trust me anymore."

"I do, Emily," he said gently, and she turned to face him at the sound of her first name. "I'm sorry. I've just... I've been having nightmares."

Her face immediately melted into a mask of complete understanding. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't - I had no idea that -"

"It's okay," he said softly. "I just... I haven't told anyone, so you're not alone, but... I've been feeling more protective than usual, especially since Reid was injured. You know you're all family to me, and as the leader it's hard to know that whatever decisions I make could end up... hurting one of you."

"Hotch," she said gently. "You have to know that I know exactly what you mean by that. I led that team in London for two years, remember? And... it wasn't like it is here, of course, but... that team kinda felt like a family to me, too," she admitted softly.

He looked at her curiously.

"And also," she added, "You know that every person on this team is one hundred percent behind you on every decision you make, right?"

Hotch nodded, but looked slightly skeptical.

"We're a family, like you said," she reassured him. "Families stick together, right?"

"Right," Hotch agreed quietly.

"But you do need to trust us more. What happened to Reid is rare – we were at the wrong place at the wrong time. We can take care of ourselves, and we can take care of each other. So don't worry so much about letting us go places. If we're too careful about what we're doing and we hesitate, it could be the difference between saving someone's life and letting an unsub escape. I do understand how much pressure that puts on you, but you can't keep us on such a short leash that we can't do our jobs."

"I know, you're right. I will try to be less… controlling."

Emily nodded, but then she let the conversation drop. She knew he was feeling guilty and she didn't want to make it worse.

Ten or so minutes later when they were on the road again, Hotch asked, "So, tell me about your Interpol team."

She looked slightly surprised. "What about them?"

"Everything. I just want to know a bit more about what our Emily Prentiss has been doing for the past two years," he said, the corners of his lips curving up in a very slight smile.

"Okay," Emily said, "Well, Clyde is in charge of our division, and I was in charge of the section and of the highest ranking unit. My team had five people: Andrew Frye, Max Marston, Tamsyn Royal, Jaylen Rush, and me. They all hated me at first because Clyde had just been promoted, and they didn't want an outsider to come into a position of authority - they all wanted Frye to take the place as leader, because he had been there longest and was second in command. Clyde wanted me, though, and he managed to convince them to give me a shot... Marston and I started getting along first. He's American, too, so that really helped. Him and Rush were really, really close, so he came around next. Tamsyn and I hit it off while undercover on a case, and we really became close after shopping one weekend - I think she just needed another girl, honestly - and well, Frye finally came around about two months later when I... took a bullet for him," she said, wincing, well aware that Hotch wouldn't be pleased to hear that.

"You took a _bullet _for him?" he asked, outraged. "Where? Emily, you can't just go jumping between people and guns-"

"It would've hit him in the head!" Emily said defensively. "I couldn't just let him die, I had to do _something-" _

"So you risked your _life _for him?" Hotch asked incredulously.

"Well, no, I knew taking one to the chest wasn't nearly as dangerous as taking one to the head, so I just kind of... stepped."

"You took a bullet to the _chest _to save the life of a man who hated you?"

"Well, let me tell you, when I woke up in the hospital with that team sitting around me, they certainly didn't hate me anymore."

Hotch chuckled. "That's a hell of a way to get someone to like you."

"Well, you know me, desperately eager to please," she laughed.

"Where did it hit you?"

"Just here," she said, indicating a spot just below her rib cage on the right side. "Got me right in the kidney. Through-and-through."

"And you didn't bleed out?"

"No, I did," she said sarcastically.

"Oh, you know what I mean. How fast did you get to the hospital?"

"Not quite fast enough," she said. "Lost a liter and a half of blood, but they managed to save the kidney, which is good, because the other one has been in iffy shape since I got impaled. The bullet just nicked it. Right in the artery – pretty much exactly like Reid's, but not in the leg. It did do that sort of pulsating gushy thing, which was kind of cool I guess."

"Damn," Hotch said, vaguely impressed. "How long did it take you to –" Then his face fell. "Oh no," he muttered, his focus no longer on Emily, as they pulled up in front of the police station, where a swarm of FBI SUVs, ambulances, the SWAT bus, police cars, a coroner van and a fire truck sat in the road, lights blazing and sirens blaring.

They quickly got out of the SUV, flashed their badges and credentials at the cops barricading the street, and they spotted Reid, Morgan, and Blake next to one of the ambulances.

"What happened?" Hotch asked immediately once they got there.

"The unsub must've knew we were onto him," Blake began, "Because he drove his car into the side of the police station."

"Is everyone okay? Where's JJ and Rossi?" Emily asked, eyes widening.

"JJ got hit; so did two other cops," said Morgan. "She's okay, Rossi's with her," he added quickly, noting Emily and Hotch's concern. "They think she might have a concussion, so they're taking her in. It's just protocol."

"And the other cops?" Hotch asked.

"Weren't so lucky. One of them was dead on impact, the other had a whole mess of glass in his leg and probably a broken rib or two," added Blake.

"And the unsub?"

"Also dead on impact. It was a suicide mission, for sure. He had to know there was no way he was coming out of that alive. Kid was only seventeen years old," Morgan said with a twinge of regret.

Emily sighed. "So we're done here?"

"Seems like it. We should go meet them at the hospital."

Morgan shook his head. "Too many fuckin' hospitals lately."

As they walked to one of the SUVs, Emily noticed the crestfallen look on Hotch's face.

"Hey," she said softly, reaching out to grab his hand before she realized what she was doing. She squeezed it gently. "This isn't your fault, either."

He looked surprised, but then he squeezed her hand back. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"I don't know. Everything you do."

She gave him a little smile. "My pleasure, sir."

They ended up staying the night: the chunk of wall that had fallen onto JJ had apparently not only given her a concussion, but it had also given her a hairline fracture in her skull. They hospital kept her overnight for observation but eventually deemed her well enough to travel without surgery. The fracture would heal on its own, and the pain, they assured them, would go away within a few days.

On the plane at 3 AM the next morning ("This is a private jet, damn it, why can't we leave at a reasonable hour?" Morgan had exclaimed), the team was huddled up in the cabin, doing what they always did after a bad case.

Hotch was sitting at a table, going over files and wondering what decisions he could've changed to create a more favorable outcome for the case. Rossi sat across from him, nursing a scotch. Morgan sat at the other table, head back, listening to music on his headphones. Emily sat quietly, looking out the window at the stars and the city lights below and, although she would never admit it, pouting slightly about the case's outcome. Next to her was Reid, who had his head back on a pillow and a sleep mask over his eyes, his bad leg propped up. Blake sat across from Reid at the chessboard, studying it as though she was attempting to visualize a game between herself and the young genius. JJ sat across the aisle, her legs curled up under her and eyes squeezed shut, her head still throbbing despite the ice pack she held against it.

Rossi glanced over at her every few seconds and eventually it seemed he made his mind up to go talk to her.

"Do you need anything, bambola?" he asked her softly, kneeling down in front of her so he was at her eye-level. He'd asked so quietly and gently that Emily knew he hadn't wanted any of them to hear.

"No, I'm okay," JJ mumbled back, keeping her eyes closed.

"Are you sure?"

JJ shook her head a fraction of an inch and then winced.

"D'you want a blanket?"

"Okay," she whispered weakly. Rossi fetched one, wrapped it around her carefully, and then took the seat next to her. JJ leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around her, his hand coming to rest gently at the inside of her knee.

"Go to sleep," he said softly into her hair, and she was out like a light barely five minutes later.

Emily noted the tenderness of Rossi's actions and the way that JJ responded to him with nothing but trust. She realized that she truly hadn't ever seen them acting like a couple – flirting, sure, and lots of playful banter, but nothing that seemed this intimate. There was a side to their relationship that they always hid while they were at work.

She looked away then. It seemed as though even though they were displaying this sort of gentle companionship in front of the rest of the team, there was still a level of privacy that they deserved. She looked over at Hotch, who was watching her. She gave him a tiny smile, which he returned, before turning back to the file he was reviewing.

After it was discovered that not a single one of them was actually asleep, except JJ, they decided that a little game of friendly Texas Hold'em would help get their minds off of the gruesome case.

Everyone pulled out their wallets and purses and go-bags, some of them a little reluctant. The BAU poker style was unique - they weren't allowed to have actual chips, since their superiors thought it would be inappropriate for them to be betting on the job, so they played with a mixture of dollar bills, coins, and a random assortment of things in their go-bags.

They made Reid sit out because his card-counting had gotten a little out of hand last time they'd played.

Morgan shuffled the cards and dealt. The starting bet was fifty cents.

Emily reluctantly dug it out of her purse.

The next card came out, and Blake narrowed her eyes, considering. She then dug through her go-bag, and flipped open a bag of matches, and threw three in.

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "What's that worth, like a penny?"

Blake shrugged. "Probably."

Rossi added a penny, as did Hotch. Emily threw in a bobby pin. Morgan added six paper clips.

The last three cards came out, and Blake folded. Rossi threw in five dollars. Emily added her own five, as did Hotch. Morgan folded, and the remaining three flipped their cards.

Hotch won with two pair, earning himself twelve dollars and two cents, a bobby pin, six paper clips, and three matches.

The wages of the game gradually increased and increased until one round, where the pot contained $156.15, two books of matches, three clothespins, two bottles of nail polish, a half-empty bottle of Sweet Pea hand sanitizer, six hairbands, four breath mints, half of a package of gum, six Mentos, a small plastic black comb like the ones you'd get on picture day, two Nationals spring training tickets, a Subway coupon, Emily's library card from London, a Reese's peanut butter cup, a plastic spoon, a package of peanuts, and a sample of shampoo from a barber's shop.

"Twenty on Prentiss," said Blake, leaning over to Morgan, who had quit the round early on.

"You're on," he whispered back.

The only ones left in the game were Emily and Rossi. Hotch had quit four rounds ago when he ran out of clothing articles he was willing to take off, seeing as the game became strip poker after the person ran out of money and things to bet. At the end of the last round, Emily had lost, and she peeled off a pair of leggings, only to reveal another pair underneath, much to Rossi's chagrin and Morgan's entertainment and delight. Blake had quit in the previous round when she realized she only had ten dollars left, after starting with sixty.

Rossi scowled at Emily as she added three tampons to the pile.

"How the hell am I supposed to know what those are worth?"

Emily looked at him innocently, saying, "Well, if you're in a public bathroom it'd be about 75 cents, but if you're in a real-life situation, I don't think their value can be accurately quantified -"

"Alright, alright," said Rossi, holding up his hands in defeat. "Flip your cards. Hah! Look at that!" he exclaimed, without glancing at Emily's cards. "I have a straight!"

"That's nice, but -"

"I win! I win all your money, and your damn tampons, too," he exclaimed.

"But, Rossi -"

"What, what?" he asked, finally looking up at her. "I have a straight," he repeated.

"I see that, but I have a flush."

The look on Rossi's face was absolutely priceless, and Emily and Blake slapped a high five as they collected their prizes.

_Yeah, _thought Emily as she laughed with the people around her, _It's good to be home. _


	24. Chapter 24

"I still can't believe you just jumped in front of it, though!" exclaimed Hotch, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, and his eyes twinkling in delight.

They were sitting at a little diner just outside of Quantico for lunch. Well, it was supposed to be for lunch, but they were both sitting there with ice cream malts. Everyone else had been out of the office, so Hotch decided to treat Emily.

"I don't know what you want me to say!" Emily exclaimed, laughing.

"Go over it again," said Hotch, his face breaking into a full-out smile. "I'm not sure I believe you yet."

Emily felt her heart clench as Hotch smiled. It was a rare treat to see him this happy, and knowing that being in her company had caused that... that was special. He even seemed relaxed, something he hadn't been since Hayley was killed almost four years ago.

Honestly, Emily could hardly believe how close she'd grown to Hotch in the two months she'd been back.

And, if she was being honest with herself, she was falling for him. Hard.

But that was scary, because he was her boss and he had Jack and she had Declan and Bean. And there were fraternization codes and OPR investigations, and Hayley and Doyle who both still played important parts in their lives.

Yeah, denying the possibility of a relationship was much easier than trying to actually pursue one.

But that didn't make her any less of an incorrigible flirt.

So she leaned a little closer to him, twirled a strand of her lightish brown hair (she'd died it back to her natural color) around her fingers, flashed her perfect smile, and began to tell the story.

"Our perp – they don't say 'unsub' at Interpol - he comes in with a shotgun and he's aiming it at Frye's head, and I'm like, okay, am I really going to sit and watch some guy blow out my team member's brains? Nah. So I jumped in front of it, and then 'pew, pew'! and-"

Hotch was laughing as hard, if not harder, than she'd ever seen him laugh. "Wait, wait, wait," he said. "Did you _legitimately _just make a 'pew, pew' sound for a gunshot?"

"Don't laugh at me!" Emily said, feigning hurt. "What sound do you _want _me to make?"

"I don't know, maybe like a 'boom' or 'ka-pow'?"

"Ka-pow? Really?" Emily asked, raising her eyebrows in amusement. "Hotch, this isn't _Superman -" _

"Well it isn't _The Peanuts _either -"

"_Annywayy," _she said loudly, calling his attention back to her story, "After that, I'm on the ground, trying to put pressure on this gunshot wound in my gut, and Tamsyn's firing, like, three or four bullets into the perp, and Andrew is flipping shit and pressing down on my kidney and there's, like, this pool of blood forming around me, and I remember I just thought, 'Damn, I bet this looks totally _sick' _and then I blacked out and woke up in the hospital two days later. I wasn't up and running for five whole months. Clyde was pissed."

"I'll bet he was," Hotch chuckled.

"But then, I was like, 'Clyde, would you rather have me out for a few months, or one of your agents dead?' and he's like, 'Oh, Emily, you know I'd rather save the life, but your actions really didn't follow protocol,'" she imitated in a fairly good English accent. "And, well, yeah. That's all, I guess."

"It just seems so _heroic -" _

"Oh, what, you don't think I'm heroic?" she asked teasingly.

"No, I think you're plenty heroic, actually. I think you might even have a bit of a hero complex -" he teased back.

"I do not!" she laughed, playfully smacking his arm.

"Oh, I don't know, you might -"

"Everyone keeps saying that! But you know what I was thinking when I jumped in front of that bullet? I was like, 'Hmm, what would Hotch do?'"

"Oh, you were not -" Hotch laughed, completely at ease. He hadn't felt this relaxed in quite a while.

"I was, too!"

He gave her a doubtful look.

She laughed. "Okay, okay, maybe I wasn't. But don't try to tell me you wouldn't jump between Morgan or Reid's head and a bullet, because I won't believe you for a second -"

He silenced her with an arching of his eyebrows.

She flashed a smile at him, and, adding a not-seductive-okay-maybe-a-little-seductive wink, she added, "Sir."

Hotch's phone dinged as Emily finished her chocolate malt.

Her face immediately fell. "Oh, damn. Please tell me that's not JJ with a case."

"It's not," said Hotch, still looking down at his phone, the smile gone from his face.

Emily raised her eyebrows curiously. She knew she shouldn't ask... He _was _her boss, after all... She could practically hear her grandmother and mother chiding, "Curiosity killed the cat, Emily" ... but... still...

"What, bad news from a lady friend?" Emily heard herself asking before she had even decided to say anything. Her tone was half-teasing and half-appropriate, which seemed like a good combination.

Hotch's eyes flicked upwards to meet hers in his usual watch-it-you're-stretching-your-boundaries way, and she bit her lip, the smile slipping from her face. Leaning back in the booth, she rested her hands on her baby bump, looked out the window, and pouted.

Noticing this, Hotch said, "It was Jack."

"Oh," said Emily, her face lighting up again. "I didn't know he had a phone."

"Yeah, I got him one last year," he said, sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket. "It's supposed to be for emergencies... I guess for an eight-year-old boy, the fact that it's Friday and we don't own _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone _on DVD counts as an emergency," he said, his eyes beginning to smile again as they met hers.

Her large brown eyes became round as she stared at him. "Hotch, that _is _an emergency."

"Oh, is it, now?" he asked, amused.

"Yes, but lucky for you and the little guy, I'm a hardcore Potterhead," she said, flashing her smile.

"I'm going to pretend like I know what that means," said Hotch, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he looked at her curiously.

"It means," she said slowly, smiling, "That I own all seven books and eight movies. When's Jack's bedtime?"

"On a Friday? Nine-thirty, ten..."

"Good," she said, smiling. "The movie is 2 and a half hours long, I'll drop it off around 6:30?"

"Oh, no, I can't ask you to do that. Let me pick it up -"

"I won't be home."

"Do you have a date?" he asked possessively before he knew what he was saying.

She snorted. "Yeah, sure. A date with Bean and my obstetrician. My appointment should be done around 6:15, I'll drop it off afterwards, okay?"

"Okay, that'd be great. I can't thank you enough. That DVD is nowhere to be found, and now that Blockbuster has practically gone extinct -"

"It's no problem at all," she said happily as he held the door for her, and they exited the diner.

"Jack will be thrilled."

"He's a good kid," she said as they slid into the car, "He deserves to be happy."

Later that night, at the Hotchner household, Hotch and Jack were in the kitchen. Hotch was making dinner - he wasn't a particularly good cook, but that was okay, because Jack was plenty happy with his father's ability to make SpongeBob Squarepants mac and cheese and dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets- and Jack was finishing up his homework - dividing fractions.

The doorbell rang, and Jack looked up at his father expectantly. Hotch slid the oven mitt off of his hand, set it on the counter, wiped his hands on his pants, and went to the apartment's foyer to answer the door.

"Hey," Hotch said, flashing a genuine smile and opening the door to reveal Emily with _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone _in her hand.

"Hi," Emily said, pleasantly surprised as she smiled back at him.

"Hey, Jack, look who's here!" Hotch called into the house.

Jack got up curiously, padding over to the door. "Miss Emily!" he exclaimed excitedly, throwing his arms around her torso. "You brought _Harry Potter!" _

"I sure did, buddy!" Emily exclaimed, beaming at him. "Here you go," she said, handing it to him. "One _Harry Potter _DVD for the entertainment of the Hotchner boys."

Jack's face suddenly fell, and looks of concern immediately covered the adults' faces.

"Miss Emily, what are you doing tonight?" the little boy asked, looking up at her.

Emily, confused, answered, "Well, honey, I don't know. I was just going to head home."

"You don't have any plans?" he asked curiously.

"No..."

A huge smile appeared on Jack's face. "You have to stay and watch with us!" he exclaimed, tugging on Emily's wrist to try to pull her into the house.

"Oh, Jack, honey," she said unsurely, as though she was trying to turn his offer down gently, yet at the same time her large brown eyes flashed hopefully towards Hotch as though she was asking his permission to stay.

Hotch looked slightly uncomfortable as he glanced from Emily to Jack.

"Pleeeeeease," Jack asked, pushing out his lower lip and fluttering his eyes at his father.

Hotch raised his eyebrows at his eight-year-old.

"Daddy, don't tell me you can resist these dimples," Jack said, flashing them at his father.

Emily laughed as the boys stared at one another for a few seconds.

"I'll just go, Hotch, it's fine. I should give Sergio a bath anyways-"

"No," Hotch said, turning to face her. "Stay, Prentiss. I mean, if you really have to go, we understand, but-"

"Are you sure? You don't mind?"

"Not at all," said Hotch. "Come on in."

"Yay!" Jack squealed, pulling her into the apartment.

"We're just about to eat," said Hotch. "Did you have dinner yet?"

"No," Emily admitted.

"I hope you don't mind mac and cheese and dinosaur chicken nuggets."

"Oh my gosh, I can't even remember the last time I had chicken nuggets."

Jack's eyes widened. "But chicken nuggets are the best!"

"I did buy some pineapple the other day if you're interested," Hotch said, his eyes crinkling as he watched Emily slide onto the stool at the kitchen island beside Jack.

"Ooh, that does sound good," Emily said, smiling at him. "Thank you."

"Sure," Hotch said, draining the Spongebob-shaped noodles.

"Ugh," Jack exclaimed, throwing down his pencil. "I don't understand this!"

Hotch moved towards his son at the same time that Emily did.

"I can help him," Emily said, looking at Hotch.

"Alright," he said somewhat hesitantly, turning back towards the oven.

"What are you trying to do here, hon?" Emily asked, scooting closer to the little boy.

"Dividing fractions," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"Ugh, I hated fractions when I was your age," Emily said, her nose wrinkling too so that her facial expression matched his. "But this stuff isn't too bad." She grabbed the pencil and paused. "Can I write in this?" she asked, holding up Jack's Spiderman notebook.

He nodded.

She flipped it open.

Hotch, plucking the hot chicken nuggets from the baking sheet, watched Emily and his son huddle together over the notebook.

"You just flip the second one and multiply it?" Jack asked, surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Emily laughed. "See, it's not so hard. You do the rest, and then I'll check it for you, okay?"

He nodded, frowning in concentration as he scribbled down the next problem.

"How was your appointment?" Hotch asked, and Emily glanced up at him.

"It was good!" she said happily, reaching into her purse and digging around. "I think I'm finally at the point where Bean doesn't look like an alien anymore. I've got a good picture, look," she instructed, holding it out so he could see.

Hotch looked down at the picture and smiled. The outline of the child's face, arms, and legs could clearly be seen in the black and grey photograph.

"Very cute," Hotch said, looking up at her, his eyes crinkling. "Looks like you."

Emily's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Do you think so?" _Did he just indirectly call me cute? _

"Yeah," Hotch said, running his finger along the part of the picture that was the baby's face, "Look at that jawline, and the shape of the nose? That's totally you."

"Maybe," Emily said, studying it. "The face is taller than mine, though. I think he'll look more like Do-"

"I'm done!" Jack exclaimed, tearing the adults from their conversation. Emily leaned over Jack's worksheet and looked it over.

"Nice, Jack! You got them all right!"

They high-fived.

"Alright, then I guess we're ready for dinner," Hotch announced. Emily and Jack followed him to the little dining table and they all sat down.

They made small talk throughout dinner, and Emily caught Hotch looking at her several times. And it wasn't the way Hotch usually looked at her, there was something different in his eyes.

And he, of course, caught her watching him a few times throughout the meal as well. Whenever he looked, she quickly averted her gaze, attempting to seem like she had been intently listening to Jack's rambles about comic books and _Harry Potter _the whole time.

By the time they finished eating their chicken nuggets, Jack was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. It turned out that he had just finished reading _The Sorcerer's Stone, _and he was extremely excited to see the movie.

"Do we need popcorn?" Hotch asked.

"No, thanks, Daddy," Jack said, smiling at his father. "I'm full."

"Alright, buddy, you let me know," Hotch said, ruffling his son's hair. Jack sat in an old armchair, leaving the only spot for Emily to sit next to Hotch on the couch.

She sat down while he put the DVD in and Jack ran to get his 'Gryffindor' blanket that Hayley's sister had bought for him earlier that week.

The DVD began to play.

"_I should've known you would be here tonight, Professor McGonagall," _said Professor Dumbledore.

Emily smiled. These movies really _were _her guilty pleasure.

Well, that and _Dance Moms. _

She loved _Dance Moms. _

She watched as Harry discovered Hogwarts, and Jack cheered. She watched during Harry's first Quidditch game. She watched as Ron and Harry saved Hermione from the giant mountain troll.

But everything other than that was a blur as she desperately tried to keep from nodding off.

It'd been one hell of a long week, and the case was horrible, and she still had jet lag from the flight back.

And so, while watching the movie about the boy wizard and listening to the adorable comments from her boss's even more adorable son, Emily Prentiss let the sleep consume her.

When the movie ended, Jack exclaimed, "That was awesome!"

When there was no response, he turned to look at the two adults on the couch. They were both asleep, and Emily's head had fallen onto his dad's shoulder. Jack smiled.

He missed his mother, of course, but he wasn't going to lie: there were times when he wished that his dad could maybe find a new mom for him. And Emily, well, she was great. He really liked her. She was smart and pretty and she liked _Harry Potter _and she knew how to divide fractions and she made his dad happy.

What more could a kid ask for?

Jack got up off of his armchair, turned the TV off, and started walking down the hallway. Halfway to his bedroom, he realized that he had forgotten his Gryffindor blanket, and quickly went back into the living room.

Grabbing the gold and scarlet blanket off of the chair, he was about to wrap it around himself when he got a better idea.

It _was _his favorite, but... he didn't want his dad and Miss Emily to get cold. He carefully placed the blanket on top of them and tiptoed down the hallway to get ready for bed.

When she woke up, the first thing Emily felt was a crick in her neck and the sun on her face. The other half of her face was... it was pressed against something warm.

Oh, dear God, it was pressed against Hotch's shoulder.

Praying her boss wasn't awake yet, she pulled away from him.

And realized that his arm was around her. And he was awake.

"Good morning," he said softly, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep, and his hair pressed flat on one side and ruffled up on the other side. He looked happy, but his eyes were tired.

"Hi," she whispered roughly, not knowing what else to say. Looking around the room for inspiration, she decided on, "Did you put the blanket on us?"

"No," he said immediately, his eyes widening slightly as though she was accusing him of something. "It must've been Jack. Last thing I remember was the three headed dog."

"You made it a lot farther than I did," Emily said, smiling. "Sorry. I didn't mean to spend the whole night -"

"Don't worry about it," said Hotch, pulling the blanket off of them. They were both still wearing their day clothes from yesterday - Hotch in his jeans and a polo shirt, and Emily in a tan sweater and white pants.

Her hair was curling and slightly tangled, pressed flat where it had been on his shoulder, and her eyeliner and mascara were smeared.

_Damn, she's cute, _thought Hotch.

"You don't have to be anywhere, do you?" he asked her.

"No," she said, shaking her head and standing. "But I'm already intruding - I'll head out-"

"Daddy, Miss Emily, breakfast is ready!" Jack called from the kitchen.

"Breakfast?" Emily echoed, confused. "Jack can cook?"

"No..." Hotch said, looking slightly concerned. "I don't know... I guess we'll have to go find out."

"That's alright. You two enjoy your breakfast, and I think I'm going to -"

"Emily, please stay," he said.

She paused, looking at him slightly strangely. _Does he actually want me to...? _

"Jack will be upset if you don't stay for breakfast, at least."

_Oh, right. For Jack. _She bit her lip. "Alright, I guess I can stay for a little while longer."

His eyes crinkled as he led her into the kitchen, where Jack was standing, looking very proud of himself. On the little dining table were three bowls of dinosaur egg oatmeal, three plates with one chocolate chip Eggo waffle on each, two mugs of coffee, and a cup of orange juice.

Hotch's coffee was in a mug that read _#1 Dad!, _Jack's orange juice was in a _LEGO Star Wars _cup, and the other mug said-

_Oh, God, _Emily thought, tearing up. The other mug said _This Mom Belongs to Jack! _and it had a picture of Hayley and Jack on it.

They sat down and Emily smiled at the little boy, but Hotch knew that there was something wrong with that smile. He followed Emily's concerned gaze to... Hayley's favorite mug, the one that hadn't been used since... _since the day she died, _he thought. He remembered finding it sitting on the counter, still half full...

"Hey, Jack," he said, forcing his gaze away from the mug and to his son, "Would you mind grabbing some napkins from the pantry, buddy?"

"Sure, Dad!" he exclaimed, jumping up to go get them.

"Emily," Hotch whispered once his son was out of earshot, "Don't worry about the mug."

Her eyes flicked over to meet his, and they were wide with concern.

"Trust me, it's fine," he said, giving her one of his stern Hotchy-looks.

"Are you sure? I mean -"

"Jack clearly doesn't mind; he set it out for you. And I honestly think she'd be more upset that it's been in the cabinet collecting dust," he whispered. "It's not... It's not like she can use it anymore."

Emily looked like her heart was breaking for them, but she nodded uncertainly.

When Jack got back and triumphantly placed the stack of napkins on the center of the table, they all began to eat.

"Who taught you how to cook all of this stuff, buddy?" Hotch asked.

"Auntie Jessica," Jack replied, grinning. "But the coffee pot went off automatically."

Taking that as her cue, Emily took a small sip of the coffee from the mug.

Then she heard her phone ringing. "Shoot, sorry, guys -" she began, getting up and walking to the island, where her purse still sat from last night during dinner.

Although she was digging frantically, she didn't find it until about half a second after it stopped ringing.

"Damn it," she cursed quietly, putting in the passcode to see who had called her.

**_One missed call from the Oracle of Quantico. _**

Then Hotch's phone began to ring.

_Fuck, _Emily thought, as she reentered Hotch's kitchen with her purse, and heard both Hotchner boys groaning.

Hotch answered his phone. "Garcia... Yeah... Where?... Alright. You said three?... _Seven?! _... How long? ... Okay, I'll be there in an hour or so. Did you call everyone else?... I'll see if I can get ahold of her... Okay, thanks Garcia. I'll see you in a few."

By the time he hung up, both Emily and Jack were pouting.

"Hey, buddy," Hotch said to Jack, who was pretty upset, "Me and Miss Emily have to go to work. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, Daddy," Jack sighed. "You gotta get the bad guy, right?"

"Right," Hotch said, smiling at his son.

Emily smiled a little, too. Watching Hotch with Jack was seeing a completely different side to him. _A sexy side, _she thought. Then she shook her head as though attempting to rid herself of the thoughts. _First the hormones make me weepy, now they're making me horny. _

"Do you have your go-bag in your car?" he asked.

"Yeah," Emily said.

"Why don't you just shower here? There's no sense in driving all the way back to DC just to take a shower. We can drive in together."

She couldn't come up with a reason not to, so she mumbled, "Okay."

"I'll get in first so you two can finish breakfast," Hotch said. "Jack, can you call Aunt Jessica?"

"Yeah," Jack said, hopping off of the chair to get his phone.

Emily silently chewed her chocolate chip waffle while listening to Jack call his aunt.

"Hi Auntie Jessica, can you come get me?... Yeah... He said to Miss Garcia that he'll be there in an hour... Okay... Yeah… Yeah! Really? Cool!... Okay, see you then!" he hung up.

"She's coming?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, and she's bringing my cousins and we're all going to go to the science museum!"

"Wow, cool!" Emily said. "Is it the Koshland Science Museum?"

"Yeah," said Jack, his eyes widening. "Have you been there?"

"You bet! Make sure you guys check out the 'Lights at Night' exhibit for me, okay?"

"Okay!" Jack said happily. They both finished up their breakfasts, and Emily helped Jack put the dishes in the dishwasher.

"Do you need any help packing, hon?" Emily asked the bouncing little boy.

"Auntie Jessica usually helps me," he said.

"That's true, but if we pack before she gets here, you'll be able to go to the museum sooner."

Jack's eyes widened. "Okay, let's pack now! Hurry! My room is over here!" he said, grabbing her hand and leading her to his bedroom.

Emily smiled upon entering Jack's bedroom. His four walls were all different colors; one red, one blue, one yellow, and one green. Each one had a large, cut out picture of a superhero. Spiderman was on red, Batman was on blue, Superman was on yellow, and the Hulk was on green. He had a Harry Potter poster taped up on one wall and a Star Wars one on another and a huge Captain America one on a third. His name was spelled out in white wooden letters above the bed, which had a quilt with soccer balls all over it. He had two pillows: a round one shaped like a soccer ball, and a dog pillow pet. On his nightstand was a picture of him, Hotch, and Hayley and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles nightlight. There were a few drawings pinned up on the walls, one that Emily recognized as having been drawn by Reid, and in two separate corners of the room were two piles of toys: one of stuffed animals, and one of action figures.

There were a few stuffed animals on his bed: a _Despicable Me _minion, a shabby old dog Beanie Baby, a cow Webkinz that was also quite old and beat up, and a Mike Wazowksi from _Monsters, Inc. _These were the first things that Jack shoved into his suitcase.

He went over to his dresser and pulled out a stack of shirts and three or four pairs of jeans, some superhero underwear and pajamas, and an armful of socks. He ran to the bathroom and brushed his teeth so that he could pack his toothbrush, and then Hotch wandered into the room, hair still wet, looking sharp in his work pants and a dress shirt.

"You can get in," he told Emily. "I'll help him."

She nodded and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Remembering the last time that she was in this room, she winced. Emily quickly undressed and got into the shower, the hot water pouring over her and relieving the aching muscles of her back.

This whole being pregnant thing was a lot harder than she had anticipated.

By the time she got out of the shower and was dressed, Emily could hear the low voices of Hotch and his sister-in-law from the kitchen, and the excited voices of Jack and his cousins from Jack's room next door to the bathroom.

She blow-dried her hair, opting to let it stay curly since she was fairly sure this was going to be a fast paced case, and that they should get there as soon as possible.

Making sure everything had that had come out of her go-bag had been placed back in, she exited the bathroom, only to be bumped into from behind by a little blonde girl.

"Oops, sorry, lady!" she said, scooting past Emily. "We're playing hide-and-seek!"

Emily could hear an unfamiliar child's voice counting from another room. She smiled a little to herself, and wandered into the kitchen where Jessica and Hotch were talking.

"You must be Emily," Jessica said, her blonde curls bouncing as she turned to hold out her hand. Emily took it in her own.

"Nice to meet you," she said.

"You, too. It's been awhile since Aaron's had a lady-friend stay overnight," Jessica said, wiggling her eyebrows at her brother-in-law.

"Oh, no-" Hotch began awkwardly as he pulled on his suit jacket, "It's, um, not like that."

"I was watching a movie with Jack," Emily offered equally awkwardly. "And we, sort of, um, we fell asleep on the couch."

"Oh, alright," said Jessica, clearly still thinking that there was something more to it, judging by the smirk on her face. "Well, it's nice to meet you, anyway," she said, smiling at Emily.

There was a thump from under the dining table, and the gazes of all three adults quickly flicked in its direction.

A boy Emily didn't recognize was crawling under the table, pulling the chair in behind him.

That was normal hide-and-seek behavior, wasn't it? Why was Jessica looking at the table so strangely?

Hotch's sister-in-law was certainly more tense than before, but her voice gave nothing away. "Alyssa, boys, come on! Game's over! Uncle Aaron and Miss Emily have to go to work, and we have to get to the museum!"

Jack and his three cousins came rushing into the room. "Let's go, let's go!" they all cheered.

Jessica grabbed Jack's suitcase, and Hotch grabbed his school bag. They began to walk to the door, helping the kids get their shoes and coats on.

"Jack," Emily called from the kitchen. "Don't forget your math homework, honey."

Jack came rushing back into the kitchen, his eyes wide as he grabbed the worksheet. "Thanks, Miss Emily! My teacher would've been mad if I didn't have it!"

Emily bent down to hug her boss's son. "You have fun at the museum, okay?"

"I will," he promised.

"Take some pictures, alright?" she said. "Here, you can borrow my camera. Take good care of it, okay?"

His eyes widened with the thought of that responsibility. "Okay, Miss Emily. I'll make sure I'm really careful!"

She handed the silver digital camera to him, and he gently put it in his coat pocket. They all piled into Jessica's van, and Hotch and Emily got into Hotch's car, opting to carpool, and they drove off in their separate directions.


	25. Chapter 25

Garcia met them at the elevator, and Emily could tell right away from the look on the technical analyst's face that this was going to be a bad one.

"Garcia, is everyone here?" Hotch asked sternly.

"We're waiting on JJ and Rossi, sir, they're -"

"I don't care where they are, as long as they get here soon," he said, swiftly walking towards the round circle room with his signature scowl on his face. Garcia and Emily were both taking two steps to match his one stride, and they shared a concerned glance behind his back.

"Tell me what's happening," Hotch instructed Morgan and Blake and Reid, who were sitting around the table, heads practically pressed together as they poured over a file.

He quickly sank into his chair and rolled it up to the table. Emily sank into her seat, too, watching Hotch.

"Shouldn't we wait for -"

"From what I've heard, we don't really have time for waiting," Hotch snapped.

Morgan looked slightly taken aback, but he didn't say anything. Blake and Reid looked up from the file towards the screen. Garcia stood in front of it with the remote in her hand, as usual, and began to talk.

"Well, guys, there have been eight children kidnapped in the past twenty or so hours-"

"Eight?" Hotch repeated. "I thought we said seven."

"Another girl was taken fifteen minutes ago," Garcia winced.

"Why are we just hearing about this?" Hotch asked, glaring at no one in particular.

"Well, Sir, there haven't been any two cases in the same state, and police didn't put it together until it was too late to set up roadblocks in the eighth city-"

"Kids are being kidnapped from capital cities," Morgan explained.

"Our first victim was Michael Rodgers, six, and he was presumably taken from his bus stop around 3:15 yesterday afternoon in Augusta, Maine-"

"Presumably?" Emily inquired.

"Bus driver claims he let the kid off of the bus at 3:10 like any other day, but the parents said he never got home..." Blake said, trailing off at the end.

"And the others?" Hotch asked, looking back to Garcia.

"Kelly Sanders, twelve, reported missing when she wasn't home when her friend's mom came to pick her up for gymnastics around 7:45. Single mom, who was at work, her alibi checks out. This was in Montpelier. Then Michael Olston, fourteen, went missing around 9 after his basketball game in Concord, New Hampshire."

"After that things started to escalate," Morgan said. "Eight-year-old Kelly Simon was taken from her bedroom in Boston around 9:50 -"

"Are _all _of them named Kelly and Michael?"

"Yeah," Garcia said, nodding in confirmation. "And they're all taken from capital cities-"

"Is it even possible to get from city to city that fast? If the unsub has the kids with him, he's not going to fly -"

"It's definitely possible," said Reid. "The time between kidnappings coincides nearly perfectly with the time it takes to drive from city to city. I think that this guy still has the kids with him."

"The rest of the victims?" Hotch asked Garcia.

"Alternating Michaels and Kellys. Michael Donaldson, eight. Kelly Richards, six. Michael Sampson, four. Kelly Pierson, three. Taken from Providence, Hartford, Albany, and Trenton."

"Reid, what's geographically the most likely place-"

"Dover, Delaware," he responded immediately, frowning. "Garcia, what time did the last victim go missing?"

She clicked to the next slide, where there was a chart with the names, locations, ages, and times of the children that had gone missing. "Looks like 7:55, Sir."

Hotch glanced at Reid again. "How long until the unsub gets to Dover?"

"He'd arrive around 9:15," Reid responded.

Emily looked at her watch, and her shoulders slumped. "Guys, it's 8:57."

Morgan looked at their boss. "Hotch, man, there's no way we can get a profile that fast -"

"I know, I know," said Hotch as he pounded his fist against the table. "Okay, Reid, where would he go after that?"

"Annapolis, probably," said Reid.

"Garcia, call Annapolis PD and tell them to set up roadblocks everywhere. No one goes in or out."

"Yes, Sir," Garcia said, grabbing her folder and rushing out of the room.

"Are you all ready to get on the plane immediately?"

They all nodded, getting up.

JJ and Rossi walked in.

"You're late," spat Hotch.

"I know, I'm so sorry, Hotch. We were just -"

"If your relationship is going to get in the way of the job, it needs to end," Hotch told them sternly before pushing past them out of the room.

There was an awkward pause.

"That bad?"

"We've got eight missing kids, soon to be nine," Morgan said, his eyebrows pressed together. "How would you feel if you were him?"

It turned out that on this "special" occasion, the Bureau was going to use three different jets to fly its seven agents to different locations, so that their work could be done as efficiently as possible.

"Blake, you and Reid should go back to Maine. Start with the first victim's parents. Interview them, check the crime scene, check with forensics, the whole routine. Then fly to Vermont and do the same thing. Keep going in chronological order until you get to Albany. Then I want you to meet Emily, Rossi, and I wherever we are at that point. JJ and Morgan, I want you to go to Trenton first. Then Harrisburg, then Dover, then Annapolis. I hate to say this, but we probably aren't going to be able to catch this guy for at least two more days. Who knows how many more kids will be gone by then. Keep going and going until we're completely caught up with him. We don't stop until he does.

"Morgan, you, Emily, and I will go to Richmond right away. I realize that the flight is only fifteen minutes, but that saves us an hour at least. This guy is ten steps ahead of us, and we need to catch up. I hope everyone has a safe flight. We conference call on the computers as soon as possible."

Less than ten minutes later, they were speculating over the laptop. Garcia's face was smaller than usual, as she had to share the split-screen with two other pairs of people

Blake and Reid looked at them from one screen, and JJ and Morgan from another.

"Okay, so, what do we know about our unsub?"

"Nothing," Garcia said fairly confidently. "The kids are there one minute and gone the next. They plan it perfectly so that there aren't any cameras or witnesses. It's like they vanish into thin air."

"Someone must've seen or heard something," said Morgan. "These guys aren't just ghosts. This kind of organization probably means that this isn't the first time they've done this."

"They?" Emily and JJ questioned at the same time.

"A team," Blake said, picking up perfectly on Morgan's angle, "One to do the kidnapping, and one to keep control of the rest of the kids. You can't just leave eight kids sitting around somewhere without supervision, they're scared and they're going to try to escape. There could even be more than one keeping watch."

The rest of the team nodded, thinking.

"I hate to say this," said Rossi, "But we don't even know if these kids are alive."

JJ scowled at her fiancé through the computer. But it was true. They could all be dead.

"I'd like to assume they're alive until it's been proven otherwise," said Hotch.

Everyone nodded.

"But still, it's something we might have to consider at some point," said Rossi. "So we'd better not rule it out yet."

They all mumbled agreement, praying it wouldn't come to that.

"Another point with the organization," Blake began, "Is that they must be older, mid-forties, early fifties? Anyone younger than that wouldn't have the willpower to plan for a crime this extravagant."

"Yeah, our guy definitely was stalking them," said Rossi. "They knew all about these families. Their routines, when to snatch the kid when no one was looking. They knew how to get into the houses without waking anyone. Hell, they even had to find every kid named Michael or Kelly."

"Is Kelly even a popular name anymore?" JJ asked. "I haven't met anyone named Kelly under the age of twenty-five in years..."

"It's actually the three-hundred and fifty-third most popular girl's name, according to the US Census of last year," stated Reid.

Blinking a few times, the team decided to change topics. "What about victimology?"

"Well, other than the names, Garcia, what do all of our victims have in common?"

"Umm, let's see... They're all between the ages of three and fourteen... Our Michaels go from four to fourteen, while the Kellys are three to eight... All white. Michaels are brunettes, Kellys are blondes, and ... Oh."

They all looked at her, waiting.

"Ohh, jinkies, guys, all of them are raised predominantly by one parent. Military moms, single parents, divorced parents... All of them, except one."

"Which one?"

"Michael Donaldson. Looks like his mom just got remarried last month, though, so maybe our guy didn't know about it?"

"Maybe," said Hotch. "Garcia, keep digging. See if these families have anything else in common with one another. Our plane is landing; we have to go. Call immediately when you discover anything, even if it seems small. We might be in separate states but we're still one team working a case, and we have to keep in touch as if we were just down the road from one another." Hotch paused, and then added, "Remember to keep it quick. No stopping, no hotel rooms, nothing. We eat and sleep on the plane. There are kids out there that need us, and more and more are going to go missing. We have to stop this guy as soon as possible."

Around the same time the next day, they hadn't really discovered anything helpful. Blake and Reid weren't back yet, and neither were Morgan and JJ. They both had made their way through four states in twenty-four hours, partially due to the extremely cooperative parents and neighbors and police departments.

Emily and Hotch and Rossi were constantly chasing the unsub, who was beginning to seem more and more like a ghost. He somehow managed to get through all of their roadblocks, and even with heightened police and FBI and homeland security presence in each city, no one managed to see the latest kidnappings.

The unsub was due in Charleston, West Virginia at any minute. There were eight more missing kids at this point, from Richmond, Raleigh, Colombia, Atlanta, Tallahassee, Montgomery, Nashville, and Frankfort, bringing the total to seventeen. Nine Michaels and eight Kellys gone.

Rossi was out on the streets in an SUV with Mick Rawson and Jonathan Simms of Cooper's BAU Red Cell team, trying to help the police with the roadblocks.

Emily, on the other hand, was sitting at the Charleston Field Office in their basement day-care center with about twelve little blonde girls named Kelly, while each of their single parents were being interviewed by Hotch and Cooper upstairs. Gina LaSalle sat there with her grumbling.

"I understand why _you _have to sit here, because Hotch is overprotective of you, but just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I enjoy sitting here with all of these children crawling around me-"

Emily rolled her eyes. "You know what? I think I can handle it here, if you want to go see what Cooper and Hotch are doing upstairs."

A look of pure gratefulness crossed her face and she quickly gathered her things and practically ran out of the room.

"Miss Em'ly," a three-year-old Kelly said, tugging on the sleeve of Emily's sweater.

"Yeah, sweetie?" Emily asked.

"I tired," she said. "I want Mommy."

"Oh, I know, honey," Emily said, lifting the little girl into her arms. "Mommy will come and get you soon, I promise."

The little girl buried her face in Emily's chest and was soon fast asleep.

Emily looked around the room. There were two twelve-year-old Kellys that were sitting on their iPhones texting in the corner. A ten-year-old Kelly drew a picture with some old crayons. The rest of the Kellys were asleep, except for two five year olds, who were playing Barbies in the corner.

Hotch entered the daycare suddenly. "Emily, we've got the guy on camera."

"What? Where? Is Rossi -"

"He's on his way there, we have to go meet him. The parents are going to be down in a minute or two. Let's go."

Emily hesitated. "Hotch," she said, indicating the sleeping child in her arms, "Can we wait just one minute-"

"Prentiss, we've got a psychopath that's kidnapped seventeen kids in the past two days. We have to go. Now."

Emily scowled at her boss and gently set the little girl down on a mat in the corner. Hotch was waiting for her at the door, and he handed her her jacket and allowed her to pass through the door in front of him. As they walked down the corridor, he gently put his hand on her back.

Her heart raced and a blush crept onto her face even as she attempted to calm herself down.

The corners of Hotch's lips curled up as he saw the blush that Emily was trying to hide. _She's so cute, _he thought.

His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of his cell phone.

Signaling for Emily to keep walking, he answered, "Hotchner."

He stayed on the phone until they were next to the SUV.

Emily looked at him tiredly and raised her eyebrows, pointing with a manila folder towards the driver's seat.

Hotch shook his head, and Emily shrugged and walked around the car to the passenger's side. They both got in and shut the doors.

"Okay. No, that's fine. You guys go ahead, get there ASAP. We'll meet you there. Oh, and JJ... be careful." He hung up.

Hotch pulled out of the parking lot, and Emily patiently waited until they were on the highway for Hotch to begin to tell her what the phone call was about.

"That was JJ. The unsub slipped up. He kidnapped a Michael, when he should've taken a Kelly."

Emily frowned. "We should've taken all of the Michaels into protective custody-"

"There was no way we could've known that he would break his routine. It doesn't fit, he's been so organized up until now!" Hotch exclaimed, smacking the steering wheel.

The horn blared, and Emily jumped.

"Sorry," muttered Hotch.

They drove in silence for a few minutes.

"Where are we going now?" Emily asked.

"Airport," he said tiredly.

"To?"

"Lansing, Michigan," he yawned.

"Why are we skipping Ohio?"

"Morgan and JJ are there."

"And the others?"

"Indianapolis."

"Where's Rossi?"

"He's driving there. Wants to scope out the freeway and see if he can think of anything we haven't."

They fell silent again. Hotch yawned, and Emily threw her head back in exhaustion.

Glancing at the clock, she realized that none of them had slept in almost thirty-six hours.

"Any chance we have time to stop for coffee?"

Hotch looked at the clock, seeming to weigh the possibility.

"This guy is working fast-" he began.

"I know, I know," Emily said, knowing full well that she was very close to having a meltdown. Thirty-six hours with about forty total minutes of sleep, not enough shitty police station coffee, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that they made on the plane, rotating the same three outfits without a shower, speeding around in the SUV, talking to weeping mothers and fathers and pissy police chiefs, and living out of the plane was hard enough without having the emotional mood swings and cravings of a pregnant woman.

One sideways glance at Emily revealed this all to Hotch and he pulled into the next Starbucks drive-through.

Emily was staring blankly out the window and trying not to cry, and she didn't even notice that they had stopped until she heard the drive-through speaker.

"Welcome to Starbucks, what can I get for you?"

Emily looked at Hotch in complete adoration as he ordered his coffee and hers and some Danishes to go along with it.

He handed her her extra tall caramel Frappuccino and she said, "Hotch, I think I'm in love with you."

Hotch's face turned a deep shade of red as he continued on towards the airport.

"Well, I'm sure I'm as sick of pb&amp;j and PD coffee as you are," he said, "Plus we both need it. Are the circles under my eyes as noticeable as yours?"

Emily, taking no offense, flipped the SUV sun visor down to open up the mirror.

"Oh, God," she said, quickly pushing the visor back up to get rid of the mirror. "I never want to look into a mirror again."

"Oh, you don't even look half bad," said Hotch, and a slight smile appeared on her face.

"You're sweet," she said, "But you don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not-"

Emily's phone went off, and she answered it. "Hey, PG, what's going on?"

"The case is over, my lovelies," she said gleefully.

"Wh- really? Why? How?"

Hotch looked over at his partner, wondering what was going on with Garcia.

Emily, noticing this, said, "Hey, Garcia, slow down and start over. I'm putting you on speaker, Hotch is here."

"Hello, boss man," Garcia saluted from the tiny speaker.

"What's happening, Garcia?"

"We've got the unsubs."

"Wait, what? Where? How?"

"Reid and Blake were driving down the freeway in Indianapolis and our boy genius happened to recognize one of the little girls on a school bus as Kelly Sanders."

"They had a school bus?" Emily asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Yep, and then our BAU clan followed them until they stopped at a rest stop. The man went in first and the woman stayed in the driver's seat. Luckily, she was really, and I mean like REALLY drunk. Our girl Blake snuck into the back of the bus and got the kids off and snuck them behind a semi. She stays with them and by that point backup was there and they arrested the woman, but Blake had to shoot the man because he shot at Reid-"

"He SHOT Reid?" Emily and Hotch frantically and simultaneously asked.

"No, no, no no no no no. No. He shot AT Reid. The bullet missed."

"And are the kids okay?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, they're a little freaked out and they're pretty tired, but they're going to be okay. One kid has a broken wrist, but other than that, they're unharmed. Their parents are all on their way to Indianapolis PD to pick them up."

"Why did they do it?" Emily asked.

"Ah, yes. Well - the unsubs were Cheryl Dougal and Norman Bronsten- they're both single parents, or, well, they were until a few years ago. Cheryl's daughter Kelly died in the same bus accident that Norman's son Michael died in, and it seems like they were trying to recreate that event and kill all of these Michaels and Kellys."

"And has Cheyrl said anything to the police?"

"No, she's not talking, but- hang on, guys, Reid is calling me-"

"That's fine, Garcia. You can catch us up at the office tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday, Sir-"

"Right, right. Monday, then."

"Alright, I'll talk to you then. TTFN-"

"Garcia?" Hotch said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Thanks."

"You're very welcome, Boss."

They hung up.

"You have a car?" Hotch mumbled tiredly.

"Shit, no. We drove together, remember?"

"Drive you home," he mumbled.

She just nodded, too tired to argue.

They got into Hotch's car and drove in silence. He pulled into a parking space at her apartment complex.

"I'll walk you to the door," he murmured.

"You don't have to."

"You look like you might fall asleep on the way there."

She made a sound that sounded like a mix of yawning and chuckling.

They got out of the car and - to Emily's dismay - the elevator was out of service, again. Hotch gently put his hand on her back as they went up the stairs, like he was trying to make sure she didn't trip.

She turned around once they were in front of her door.

"Stay with me," she whispered.

"Prentiss..." he began, "I don't think that would be entirely appropri-"

"You're too tired to drive," she mumbled, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into her apartment.

Hotch sighed, and without a word, he slipped off his jacket and shoes. He followed Emily into her bedroom, the thought of sleeping on the couch completely evading him as he saw that she had already flopped face first onto the bed.

Her fatigued mind barely recognized his touch as he pulled her pumps off of her feet and dropped them onto the floor. She only barely noticed when he slid his gun belt off and put it on the dresser, and then slid hers off and put it next to her on her night stand.

He then tugged at her jacket, pulling it off so that she would be more comfortable in her sleep. He discarded this onto the floor with his dress shirt, kicked off his shoes, rolled Emily - who was finding it very difficult to keep her eyes opened - onto her back, pulled the covers over her nearly-unconscious form, and flopped down on the bed next to her.

"Hotch?" she mumbled.

"Mmm?"

"Thanks," she whispered.

He opened his eyes to see her half-shut pretty brown ones looking at him as though waiting for a response.

Looking back, he wasn't sure what prompted him to do it- he wasn't entirely sure that it was completely him, either - one second they were just looking at one another, and the next their lips were pressed together in a very passionate kiss.

Her arm snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to her, and her fingers grasped the hair at the base of his neck.

He deepened the kiss by shifting his position so that he could kiss her from above, and she moaned slightly.

She felt his head drop down to land on her shoulder and his breathing became deep and steady before she, too, was overcome by sleep.


	26. Chapter 26

Hotch awoke late the next morning. He stiffened, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings, but then he remembered that he'd spent the night at Emily's. At first he wasn't sure exactly what woke him up- that is, until he heard hissing and spitting in his ear, and felt claws raking down the side of his face.

"Ouch, what the hell," he exclaimed, jolting upwards. A black ball of fur jumped off of his chest as he sat up. It slinked around his torso and curled up on the pillow that his head had recently vacated.

The cat mewed in satisfaction, rested his head on his paws, and looked up at Hotch with some evil look in his green eyes.

Sergio licked Emily's forehead without removing his gaze from Hotch, and the brunette began to stir.

"'Morning, Serg," she mumbled, stroking the black cat.

She rolled onto her back, and that was when she saw Hotch sitting on the edge of her bed.

And then it all came back to her.

"Hey," said Hotch awkwardly.

"Hi," Emily said hoarsely, sitting up.

"So... d'you..." Hotch began.

"Yeah," Emily whispered, her eyes finally meeting his. "That was... That breaks a lot of protocol."

"We were really tired," said Hotch.

Emily bit her lip.

And then they were kissing again. Even more passionately than before. In fact, Emily only pulled away because she was afraid her lips would bruise if they continued.

And that would be very hard to explain to a group of profilers.

Breathing hard, she whispered, "Hotch, what are we doing?"

"I don't know," he replied after a moment, "But it's nice."

"Hmm," she moaned happily, leaning her head back on his shoulder. "It is. You want coffee?"

"Of course," he replied.

They slid out of bed and he followed her down the hallway to the kitchenette.

"Nice place," he said as he sat down at the kitchen island.

"It's alright," she agreed. "It's pretty tiny, but I think it'll suit the three of us just fine."

"When does Declan get back from school?" Hotch inquired.

"He comes home for four days for Mother's Day weekend, then another three days for Memorial Day, and then he gets off for summer on June 12th."

"Is it going to be weird for you to have him here?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

There was a slight pause, and then Hotch hesitantly asked, "Does he remind you of Doyle?"

Emily flinched slightly at the sound of his name and then subconsciously ran a hand over her baby bump. "Honestly? Everything reminds me of Doyle."

He nodded slowly, understanding. "Have you seen a therapist since...?"

"You are _not _sending me back to a shrink," Emily said, waving her spoon at his face threateningly. "You promised if I talk to you and JJ I don't have to!"

Hotch chuckled and Emily beamed at him.

_Is this actually happening? _she thought. _Did I actually just make out with Hotch, and now I'm making him breakfast in my kitchen? _

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone.

They both sighed.

"Please don't tell me it's a case," Emily said, realizing that she was still quite exhausted from the last one.

"It's Jessica... Excuse me for a minute," he said, wandering over to sit on her couch as he talked quietly to his sister-in-law.

Emily watched him curiously, taking in all of the little details about him that she hadn't noticed before. The little mannerisms that he would never show while he was on duty were all on display now.

Like the way that he crossed his leg over his knee while he sat, and drummed his fingers against the back of her couch as he spoke with Jessica.

Sergio leapt onto the counter, blocking her view of her boss. The ball of black fur rubbed itself against Emily's arms, mewling somewhat pathetically.

Raising her eyebrows, she looked into the cat's large green eyes. "Are you hungry, handsome?"

The cat meowed again and Emily got up to get a can of cat food from her refrigerator. Plopping the tuna into Sergio's engraved cat bowl, Emily wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, Serg," she said as her stomach began to turn. "I'm gonna have to start feeding you later in the day, hun."

"Emily?"

"Yeah?" she asked, turning around to look at her boss.

"I've gotta go," he said.

"Oh," Emily said a bit sadly.

Hotch picked up on it almost immediately. He had to admit, he was a little disappointed himself. "Hey," he said gently.

"Yeah?" she asked hopefully.

"Maybe... d'you want to go to dinner?"

She was pretty sure her heart stopped, "I- Yeah, I'd love to."

"Great," Hotch said, returning her smile. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

She glanced at her calendar hopefully and then let out a defeated sigh. "Yeah, I am. I promised Garcia and Morgan that I'd watch Kendall tonight."

"Well, that's alright. Some other time, then."

"Okay," Emily said, twisting a strand of her hair around her finger.

Ten minutes later he was gone, and - after making sure he had actually pulled out of the parking lot and driven out of sight, of course - she was dancing happily around her kitchen.

It had been _way _too long since she'd been on a date.

After she'd calmed down, her first instinct was to call JJ and Garcia.

But... there was no way she could do that. Not yet. She didn't know if it was actually going to go anywhere, and she didn't know if Hotch actually wanted to tell anyone... And even if she didn't name any names, Garcia would do her digging and somehow find out that Hotch had spent the night...

Sighing, she decided that it would have to wait. It wasn't like they were actually in a relationship, and there were way too many things that could end it.

Friday night came quickly; a sudden case had come up, making the week practically fly by, and they'd managed to solve it and get home with just enough time left for Emily to take a nap and then get ready for her _dinner _\- she was refusing to call it a date, not yet - with Hotch.

It was about 4:30 now and he was picking her up at 5. He'd said to dress up, but refused to disclose the name of the restaurant he'd chosen to her.

That was romantic... Wasn't it?

Emily shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She was overthinking this. It was just a simple little dinner with her boss. That's all.

She wandered over to the stereo on the corner of her bedroom, plucked a CD off of the rack, placed it into the player, and turned the volume up to the point where she was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to hear herself think.

Emily peeled off her old sweatpants and her oversized Quantico t-shirt and then pulled her new navy blue cocktail dress on. She had purchased it with Garcia, JJ, and Blake on their last shopping trip because Garcia had _insisted _that it made her eye color pop.

That was only four weeks ago, and already it felt much tighter. Scowling, Emily turned sideways to look at herself in the mirror.

She looked _really _pregnant.

Running a hand over her bump, she sighed. It's not like she could really do anything about it. She glanced at the clock for what seemed like the thousandth time, but only seven minutes had passed.

Emily pulled the rollers out of her hair and found a pair of blue and gold earrings in her jewelry box. As she applied a final layer of lipstick, Sergio jumped up onto the counter and looked at her quizzically.

"Come on, Serg," she said, laughing. "It's a date, it's not completely unheard of!"

The cat still looked skeptical.

Then there was a brief pause between songs and she heard the knocking.

"Shit," she muttered, rushing to the corner to turn the music off before she dashed to the door to let an amused looking Hotch into her apartment.

"Hey, sorry-" she greeted hastily.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "I'm early. You were listening to the _White Album_?"

"Oh, yeah," she answered, blushing. "I know it's not their most popular work, but I'm getting sick of the rest of the Beatles music, so-"

"That one's my favorite. The _White Album," _Hotch said.

"Really? I didn't know that."

"I don't really go around telling people. Especially since Manson used it with the whole 'Helter Skelter'-"

"Hey, come on," Emily teased, "It's been less than two minutes and we're already talking about serial killers."

Hotch looked slightly embarrassed, "Sorry, bad habit-"

Emily shrugged it off. "Hey, I'm not quite ready yet. Do you want to sit down for a minute? I have to grab my shoes and my purse."

He followed her into her living room where he sat down. After she ensured that he didn't want anything to drink, she rushed back down the hallway to go finish getting ready.

Sergio slinked around the corner from the hallway and entered the living room. He hopped up onto the coffee table and stared at Hotch.

"Hi, Sergio," Hotch said, reaching forward to pet the cat's head.

Sergio hissed at him, and Hotch quickly withdrew his hand.

The cat glared at the man in such a way that it reminded him of when he had gone to Hayley's house to pick her up before their first date and he had been given a talk by her father.

Once Sergio laid down - although his gaze never wavered - Hotch felt reasonably confident that he could break eye contact with the feline without being attacked. He looked around Emily's living room, trying not to profile her, yet he took in all of the details that he could.

The room was monochromatic; almost everything was a shade of blue. The coffee table was glass and had several scratches on its surface from the cat's claws. The television remote was sitting on the entertainment center and there was dust collecting on it. Her bookshelf held mostly classics, some written in foreign languages, and she had quite an extensive DVD collection which seemed to be alphabetized by title.

There were a few pictures on the mantle, and Hotch got up to perform a closer inspection: an old picture of Emily and JJ and Garcia, one posing with Morgan and another with Reid, a team picture from just before she left and an older one from when Gideon was still with them, and one from JJ's wedding - with, he noticed with a smile, a small magazine cut out of Brad Pitt's face glued over Will's face - the blonde had obviously been over recently. There was a professional shot of Declan, a picture of Sergio as a kitten, and a small print out of an ultrasound picture. There was one of a young, thirteen or fourteen year old Emily with an older man that Hotch assumed was her grandfather. And one from about eight or nine years ago where Emily, with light, curly hair, was laughing and posing with a four year old blond boy whom Hotch recognized as Declan Doyle. He leaned in to look a little closer - it appeared that they were on holiday at a beach somewhere. Emily looked radiant, wearing a big red sun hat which matched her bikini. Declan, wearing what Hotch assumed were Emily's sunglasses, clung to her hand, a big smile on his face as he licked his dripping ice cream cone.

"Hey, you ready to go?"

Her voice startled him, and he jumped. He began to sheepishly apologize, "Sorry, I was just looking-"

"That's kind of why they're there," she joked playfully.

"You look stunning," Hotch said suddenly.

"Thank you," she replied. They were both blushing like teenagers on a first date, and both mentally scolding themselves.

Once they arrived at the restaurant - it was a _really _nice place in DC - and they got settled in, they began to talk about the menu. And once they ordered, it seemed like neither of them really knew what to talk about, and an uncomfortable silence settled in.

When Emily started picking at her fingernails, Hotch decided the silence had gone on long enough. After thinking for a moment trying to decide what to say, he settled on, "So, how does Declan feel about becoming a big brother?"

Emily's face lit up. "He's excited! My friend Tom, who raised Declan, his sister has a little daughter and Dec adores her, so I know he'll be a big help. Especially since he'll be home from school, since the baby will be born in the summer."

"Do you have an actual due date yet?"

"I do. August 4th."

"So are you six months?"

"Five," she corrected, smiling as she ran a hand over her stomach. "I feel like I could be about twenty months though; I look like a whale."

"You do not," he said immediately. "You look beautiful."

She blushed. "Aww, thank you, sir."

"And you don't have to call me sir when we're not at work," he reminded her.

"Hotch, is this a date?"

She wasn't sure when she had worked up the courage to ask that question and she was quite frankly a bit surprised when it came out of her mouth.

Now all she could do was wait for an answer.

Hotch looked like he was trying to decide what to say.

She watched him patiently.

"I think... Only if you want it to be," he decided. "If not, then it's just a friendly dinner between colleagues."

That put all of the pressure on Emily, Hotch realized, and while that wasn't exactly a nice thing to do, he wanted to be absolutely sure that if they were going to enter some type of a relationship, it was because they both wanted to, not because she was trying to please her boss.

Emily paused, then answered carefully, "It can be a date. If you want, I mean."

"I'd like that," Hotch said, giving her a rare smile.

"Me, too," she smiled.

Hotch sighed. "We have to talk about some things, though," he began.

"Wow. I think that's my new record for fastest 'we have to talk' talk," Emily joked.

He laughed a little. "Not like that. I mean work related stuff."

"Work stuff on a date?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"We're going to end up on the subject eventually; may as well get it out of the way."

"That's true. What's up?"

Hotch began, "Well, first things first. I owe you an apology."

Emily's eyebrows flicked up. "Hotch, I don't think-"

"No, let me say this. I'm sorry for not letting you in the field as much as you should be, and for not letting you look at that crime scene on Wednesday. I just thought about how sick you got with your pregnancy and thought it might be for the best for you to wait outside. I honestly did not mean to make you feel incompetent or untrusted at all; I was merely trying to look out for you. I should have made my intentions clearer."

"Also," he added before she could say anything, "Next time before I tell you not to do something in the field I will make sure it's okay with you first, and I will be contacting your doctor to see when he thinks you should start staying at the police departments for interviews. And I don't want you flying after eight months, is that fair?"

"Yes, sir, that's more than fair," Emily said, "But I don't recall complaining about anything on our last case –"

" – I know. You didn't say anything, but…"

"You profiled me," she accused.

"A little. Sorry."

She shrugged. "Occupational hazard. I get it. You can't just shut it off."

A smile touched his eyes, and then he continued.

"Second order of business: Every agent in the Bureau is going to be going through requalifications next month. They'll be testing physical ability, hearing, vision, hand-to-hand combat, firearms skills, protocol and procedure knowledge, and drug use. We'll also get psychological evaluations and a run or two through Hogan's Alley."

Emily wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Hotch gave her a tiny smile. "I know, I'm not looking forward to it, either. I doubt anyone is. But there's good news on your part."

Emily raised her eyebrows, unsure what he could be talking about. "What d'you-"

"Because of your pregnancy, you are officially exempt from the physical fitness test and the hand-to-hand combat test."

Emily smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a frown. "Does that mean I'll have to make them up after I have the baby?" The thought of running through the tests was bad enough, but running through them with students at the Academy instead of her team would be downright unbearable.

"No, actually," Hotch said. "I managed to convince Cruz to exempt you from it all together, since you just had requalifications at Interpol last year."

"Thank God," Emily said happily. "Do they still want me in Hogan's Alley?"

"Yeah, with a vest," Hotch said, frowning slightly. "I tried to convince them that that was too dangerous, too, but they seem to think if you wear a vest a few sizes too big it should cover you from any paintballs."

Emily nodded, understanding. "Don't worry, Reid told me when we went to Hogan's Alley after the gala that the vest with the amniotic fluids are sufficient to cushion the fetus," she said with a smirk.

Hotch looked at her, eyebrows raised. "You were in _Hogan's Alley_?"

Emily's eyes widened, and she pursed her lips. "Whaaat, did I say that?"

"That's very illegal," he accused.

"It wasn't my idea," she said defensively with a mischievous smile.

"I guess I don't care as long as it doesn't come back to bite us. Okay, thirdly, Jack wants me to tell you that he still has your camera, and he is very worried that you haven't had it for the past few weeks. Also, he has finished reading the second and third _Harry Potter_ books, and he wants to know if you want to come over to watch the movies with him."

Emily's face lit up. "Ooh, I'd love to!"

"I read the first one myself, and I must admit, I really enjoyed it."

She laughed happily. "See, it's your favorite book now, isn't it?"

"Not quite," he said, amused.

"Nuh uh! What book have you possibly read that you like better than _Harry Potter_?"

"Have you read _The Princess Bride?" _

Emily raised her eyebrows in amusement. "That sounds like a book for ten-year-old girls."

"So you haven't read it," he concluded. "Well, you should. See what you think of it."

"It's your favorite?" she questioned.

"It has been since I was eight years old," Hotch replied. "Want to come over by my place after dinner? I could give you the book. And maybe we could watch that movie with Jack?"

"Sure, that sounds amazing," she agreed happily. She loved spending time with Hotch, sure. But she adored spending time with his son, too. "How the hell did he manage to finish both of those in one week, though? That's seriously impressive -"

"Isn't it? I was worried he wasn't doing his homework. Turns out, he usually drags it out as much as possible. Jess said he gets done half as fast as usual."

Emily laughed - this reminded her of Morgan, who took forever to do his case files when he was too bored to focus without an incentive.

"Last thing," he said, and his whole demeanor changed - Emily could tell that he was about to tell her something very important. "I was informed last week that the BAU has been given a very... rare opportunity."

"And?"

"And, they've told me that I have to go, since I'm chief, but I'm allowed to pick one other person, and Dave's already gone three times and I thought I'd pick you to make up for not letting you perform to your best ability for the past few months -"

"-Hotch, what _is _it?" she asked anxiously.

"Well, we've been given the opportunity to go on a fully paid for trip to San Joaquin Valley in California to visit Corcoran State Prison," he paused, looking at Emily's face. He could tell that she faintly recognized the name, but wasn't sure what his point was, "Where we will be given a full day to interview Charles Manson."

Emily's jaw dropped and her eyes lit up: it was the dream of every profiler to get to interview an infamous serial killer, and Manson was one of the most nefarious of them all. "Really? And you'll let me go? Are you serious?"

"I'm serious, if you want to go then you and I just have to schedule the interview. If not, I'll ask Reid or Morgan-"

"No, no, I'm going, Hotch. I want to go. When is it?"

"A week from this Saturday."

"Okay," she said, standing up. "I will clear my calendar. I'll have to move a doctor's appointment-"

"Don't push it back," Hotch warned.

"I know," she said, "I'll move it up or something. Can I get a few hours off if I have to go during the work day?"

"I'm sure I can arrange it," Hotch said, happy that she was so excited.

"Thank you, sir-"

"Don't call me sir," Hotch said, smiling slightly.

Emily laughed, "Okay, fine. But thank you."

"You're welcome."

After dinner, they got into Hotch's car and drove off towards the Hotchner household, where Jessica and Jack were waiting for them.

"Hi, Daddy! Hi, Emily!" Jack said, bouncing up and down in excitement.

"Hey, buddy!"

"Miss Emily, I took really good care of your camera, like I promised, see?" Jack exclaimed, pulling Emily into the house over to the counter, where he handed the silver digital camera back to her. He pulled her over to the couch and began to go through the pictures from the museum with her, while Hotch walked Jessica out to her car.

"It was so fun," Jack was saying when Hotch re-entered the house, "And guess what! I got a hermit crab!"

"You did?" Emily asked happily. "Wow, that's awesome!"

"I know! I named him Hermy, do you want to come see him? He's in my room!"

"Okay," Emily laughed, winking as Hotch as his beaming eight-year-old pulled her out of the living room.

The rest of the night was amazing. Emily had spent the next five hours curled up on Hotch's couch watching _The Chamber of Secrets _and _The Prisoner of Azkaban _with Jack snuggled up against her side. Every time something important happened, he looked up at her in pure delight, and she eventually found herself watching his adorable little face instead of the movie.

When both of the movies were over, Hotch had scooped his sleeping son into his arms and put him in the back of the car, and he drove Emily back to her apartment complex. Jack woke up during the ride and convinced Hotch to stop for ice cream, and the three of them sat outside in the warm night licking their ice cream cones. They then finished the drive and both boys walked her up to her apartment.

"Well, thank you guys for driving me!" Emily said happily, squeezing Jack's shoulders.

"Thanks for watching the movies with us!" Jack exclaimed.

"Oh, it was my pleasure, sweetie," she replied. "You'll have to let me know when you finish the next one so we can watch it together again."

Jack frowned. "I don't have the next book, though. Daddy, can we go and pick it up tomorrow?"

"I don't think so, buddy," Hotch said, his eyebrows pushing together. "We won't have time tomorrow, you have two soccer games, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Jack said, pouting. "Monday then?"

"Maybe Aunt Jess can take you after school on Monday."

"Do you want to borrow mine?" Emily offered. "I can go grab it right now."

"Yeah!" Jack squealed excitedly. "Can I, daddy?"

"If Emily doesn't mind."

Emily scanned her key into the door and then punched in the code and allowed Jack to pass by her into the condo.

"It's in the living room, Jack, right on the bookshelf."

"Okay!" Jack called.

That left Hotch and Emily alone in the hallway outside of the condo.

"He's crazy about you," Hotch said softly.

"I love him to death," Emily replied, smiling even as she remembered when Ian Doyle had said the exact same thing about Declan. "And... I had a good time tonight."

"So did I," Hotch said. "Would you want... to do it again sometime?"

"Absolutely," she said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

"Great." Hotch flashed a genuine smile at her, and she beamed back at him.

_Stop blushing, _she scolded herself.

Jack came running back out. "I got it!" he yelled.

"Alright, buddy, then we're going to go. Say goodbye to Emily."

"Bye, Miss Emily," Jack said, giving her a hug. "Thanks for letting me borrow this!"

"Anytime, honey. I'll see you soon, okay?"

He nodded vigorously.

"Good night, Emily," said Hotch.

"Night," she whispered, smiling, as the father and son pair walked hand in hand down her hallway.


	27. Chapter 27

"They want us downstairs in 312 in ten minutes," Hotch called from the second story of the BAU bullpen, poking his head out of his office door.

A collective groan echoed throughout the room as Hotch ducked back into his office.

"What's in 312?" asked Blake, who hadn't done requalifications with the BAU yet.

"Hell," replied Morgan without a second of hesitation.

"The eyes and ears test," Reid replied without looking up from his book.

Blake winced, and Emily and JJ laughed at her pained expression.

"What, you can't read letters from across a room?" Rossi teased.

"No, I can," Blake replied, "It's just annoying. Why is that even necessary?"

"Who knows," said Morgan. "Let's head down there now. Maybe we'll get done early and have a bigger lunch break."

There was a murmur of agreement.

"I'll go grab Garcia," said JJ.

"Who wants to tell Hotch?"

"I will," Emily said, jumping up to go get him.

Staring at her retreating form, Reid raised his eyebrows and looked at Morgan. The older man, however, wasn't watching. Reid dismissed the thought and got up to follow the rest of the crowd into the elevator.

After the eyes and ears test and lunch, the team had to travel across the road to the Academy. They piled into a classroom. The teacher inside was a woman that appeared to be in her late fifties and she had the deepest scowl on her face that Emily had ever seen.

"Alright, everyone, quiet down," the woman snapped, even though none of the agents were talking. They all sat around one table.

"My name is Agent Campienne. I want you all to introduce yourselves so that we can all get to know each other before we begin the bonding session."

They all raised their eyebrows at one another – this seemed a ridiculous request, as they'd been working together for years – but they reluctantly did as they were asked.

"I have go to get something from the library. No talking while I'm gone," she said curtly, and then waddled out of the room.

After about thirty seconds, Morgan blurted out, "That woman's got an _attitude_."

"I feel like I'm in middle school with the crankiest teacher to ever exist," Blake whispered.

"You're afraid of her," Rossi teased.

"What?" Blake asked a little louder, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Why else would you be whispering?" Rossi said as he winked.

The clatter of heels against floor tile filled the room. Hotch shushed them desperately, waving his hands at them to make them quiet down.

Emily giggled at him just as the teacher entered the room. The woman went about her business, plugging a flash drive into a computer and pulling up a PowerPoint presentation about teamwork and cooperation.

About six minutes in, Emily became so bored that she was pretty sure she was going to die. She glanced at Hotch, who appeared to be counting ceiling tiles. The corners of her mouth turned up. Then she turned her head slightly to look at Rossi.

Rossi had a full out satisfied grin that covered every inch of his face as he glanced suggestively between Emily and Hotch.

Emily's jaw dropped open a little, and she glanced between Hotch and Rossi as though trying to figure out why Rossi was giving them a funny look.

Rossi arched an eyebrow in a don't-play-dumb-cuz-I'm-not-buying-it sort of way.

She shrugged as if to say _not my problem if you don't believe me. _

Emily turned back towards the PowerPoint.

Rossi used his toe to nudge Morgan under the table. Morgan turned to look at Rossi.

Rossi tilted his head towards Hotch, then towards Emily.

Morgan raised his eyebrows, not quite following.

Rossi stealthily pointed his left finger at Hotch, his right finger at Emily, and then pressed the two finger tips together.

Morgan's eyebrows shot up and together, his head turned to the side and tilted, and he wrinkled his nose. Then he shook his head a little. _I'm not buying it. _

Rossi shrugged his shoulders. _Suit yourself. _He turned back to the board.

Morgan kept his eyes on Hotch and Emily, however, and he began to notice how they glanced at one another every few minutes, very subtly. If Rossi hadn't pointed it out, he never would've noticed, but there was definitely something going on there. At the moment he wasn't sure if it was necessarily something romantic, but there was definitely something.

JJ glanced at Morgan halfway through the presentation and followed his gaze to Emily. Emily's eyes flicked to Hotch. JJ looked back at Morgan. Reid noticed JJ looking at Morgan who was looking at Rossi who was nudging Blake under the table. Blake turned to Morgan, who she thought had nudged her, and raised her eyebrows. She looked at JJ, who was also looking at Morgan. The only ones that seemed completely oblivious to the entire situation were Hotch and Garcia, since Hotch was still counting ceiling tiles and Garcia was picking off her glittery nail polish so that it formed a little pile of pink flakes on the table.

Emily looked over to JJ, who was staring at Reid, who was watching Blake, who was frowning at Morgan, who was looking at Rossi, who watched Hotch. Then her eyebrows shot up; she had absolutely no idea what was going on anymore, but it was becoming more and more obvious that no one was paying any attention to their team bonding session.

"Now," the teacher said sharply, drawing all of their attention back to her. "I want you all to get in a circle and compliment one another."

Emily barely suppressed a giggle after seeing Morgan's absolutely mortified expression.

After about another hour of forced bonding, the woman finally dismissed them and they hurried downstairs to the locker rooms so they could change and start to train for their physical exam.

"Okay," JJ said immediately once they were in the locker room. "What was up with that?"

"What was up with what?" Emily asked immediately, compartmentalizing as best as she could – which was pretty damn good.

JJ rolled her eyes. "Come on, Em, we aren't stupid."

"I really don't know what you guys are talking about," Emily said, twisting the combination into her locker.

"I'm gonna have to call bullshit again on that one," JJ said. "Em, you're good at lying, but not good enough to lie to a group of profilers. Something's going on between you and Hotch."

"Sorry, Jayje, whatever you're talking about I didn't notice it."

"Oh, come -" JJ began, but Garcia cut her off.

"_O_kay, Emily, sure. We _believe _you," Garcia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Then she whispered dramatically to JJ, "I shall dig."

Emily froze for a moment, thinking. Would Garcia be able to find anything? She didn't think so, but could she be _sure? _

"Your silence speaks volumes," Blake said to Emily.

"Oh, no," Emily said, "Not you, too."

Blake shrugged. "I'm not going to lie; I want to know what's going on as bad as they do."

"And I _still _don't know what you're talking about," Emily insisted, shoving her purse into her locker and closing the door.

"Denial isn't a good look on you, Em," JJ teased.

"Whatever," Emily said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Let's go run."

The girls followed her out onto the track.

When they got there, they got some of the best news they'd had all day.

"Oh," said Hotch, surprised. "Actually, Prentiss and JJ – you two are exempt from the physical training parts."

Emily, who had forgotten that she didn't have to do this – she wasn't really yet acquainted with the idea of _not _doing things due to her pregnancy – turned to JJ suspiciously. "How come _you _don't have to do it?"

JJ looked just as confused as her. "Why –"

"Technically because of your head injury you're supposed to sit out all physical exams," Hotch told her. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you."

"Are you sure?" asked JJ. "I've been doing everything in the field already – am I still supposed to be on administrative duty?"

"No, for some reason you're clear in the field but not for training. I don't know, it doesn't make sense to me, either. Cruz just told me this morning."

"Ohh," said several of the team members together, sharing suggestive looks.

Rossi scowled.

JJ nodded, a knowing smirk on her face. Leave it to Mat to get her out of things.

"You two can go back to the bullpen and see what Reid's up to," Hotch instructed. Reid, too, was exempt, because he was still on crutches from when he was shot a few weeks ago.

"Okay," they agreed happily. Garcia watched them jealously as they walked back to the locker room.

"Where is he?" Emily asked JJ when they got off of the elevator and Reid wasn't in his desk.

"Huh," the blonde wondered aloud. "I don't know. Hey, Anderson!" she called, and the agent came over.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Do you know where Reid is?"

"Oh, yeah. He's in archives."

The women exchanged glances. "Why?"

"Cruz said that since it's close to exams for all of the academy agents, they're really behind on organizing the paperwork for the cases. He wanted him to go down there and work because he doesn't have to do the physical training for the requalifications."

JJ and Emily looked at one another, eyes wide. This was bad. This was _really _bad. Filing was the absolute most boring job in the entire bureau, and if Cruz was looking for extra people to do it –

"Ah, JJ, Agent Prentiss," Cruz said, coming up behind them. Anderson winced sympathetically and disappeared down the hallway.

"Hi, Sir," Emily greeted him in a defeated voice.

"I was just talking to Dr. Reid in archives. It does look like he could use some help with all of the case reports – would you two mind going in there and filing for a while?"

"Guess not," JJ mumbled in a voice that clearly said she minded quite a bit.

"Thank you, it's really appreciated," Cruz said, moving off towards the break room.

Emily looked at her best friend. "You couldn't have flirted us out of it?"

"Maybe we should go ask Hotch if we can just do all the physical training – I mean, my head might still be fractured, but it doesn't hurt anymore… and you're not _that _pregnant…"

"Yeah, I think it's a little late for that," Emily groaned. "Let's just go. It can't be that bad. Maybe we can get it done in an hour or two and then leave."

JJ sat her gym bag down underneath her desk and then started rummaging through her bottom desk drawer. She pulled out a large bag of Cheetos.

Emily shook her head.

"What?" JJ asked defensively, popping the bag open.

"You're going to get Cheeto dust on all of the files," Emily accused.

"Those files _need _some Cheeto dust," said JJ defensively.

"What does that mean?"

"It means don't question my damn Cheetos."

Emily laughed, and the two of them started to make the long trek down to find Reid.

When they got down to the basement, Emily and JJ exchanged nervous glances. Neither of them liked being down there; most agents didn't, due to the eerie silence and lack of other people. The quiet was almost deafening in a weird way, and the fact that the entire basement was full of shelves, stacks of boxes, and filing cabinets made it seem like people could easily hide there for weeks without any chance of being discovered.

It was exactly the type of place where a few FBI agents could lose their minds.

Back in the day – like, _way _back, before Emily even joined the BAU the first time – Morgan, Reid, Elle, JJ, and Garcia had had a crazy game of hide and seek in the dark down there. But even with flashlights it was too creepy to try to do it again.

JJ found her hand on her gun as Emily scanned in to the basement door.

"I don't like it down here," the blonde whispered to her best friend.

"Me neither," Emily said, her hand on the door. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

She swung the door open and was _extremely _grateful that the lights were already on.

Even so, she and JJ sprinted all the way down the hall to the archives room. Reid almost jumped out of his skin when the women breathlessly swung the door open and jumped inside the room.

"Oh, my God," he breathed from where he was crouched defensively in the corner, "You couldn't have come in quieter?"

"Sorry," JJ panted. "Didn't mean to scare you. We just… hate it down here," she panted, putting her Cheetos down on the dusty table against the wall.

"So do I," said Reid. "Ever since Morgan jumped down from that shelf when we were playing hide and seek – that messed me up."

"Me, too," said JJ. "I didn't come down here for years. I always paid Anderson to go get stuff for me."

"Pathetic," Emily breathed teasingly. "You two are afraid of a basement?"

"So are you," said Reid defensively.

"You're afraid of rest stop bathrooms," JJ pointed out.

"That makes sense! Do you know how many times we've had cases where people get kidnapped, killed, or dumped at a rest stop –"

"Twenty-three," said Reid matter-of-factly. "And that's just since I started here."

"That's a lot," Emily told JJ.

"Not really – how many cases have you worked, Spence?"

"Seven hundred eighty-two," he replied. "It's about three percent, which is actually a decent amount."

"Yeah," Emily said, sticking her tongue out at JJ.

"Whatever," JJ retorted, popping another Cheeto into her mouth. "How much filing is there? Is this it?" she asked, leaning over a pile of maybe fifty manila folders that were on the dusty table.

"I wish," said Reid regretfully. "There's another table in the back with more."

Emily and JJ went to the back of the room to grab the rest of the files.

"Oh, shit," Emily muttered when they saw the boxes. There were about ten of them, roughly three feet long, and they were full of folders that had to be filed.

JJ threw her head back in exasperation.

"Well, I definitely shouldn't try to carry any of those," Emily said, running a hand down her baby bump. "Doctor said no more than twenty-five pounds – those have to be at least three times that."

JJ scowled. "Well, Reid can't carry one of these – he's on crutches."

"There's a cart back by the elevator," Emily suggested.

"I'm not going all the way back there. I already went down this hallway one too many times today."

"Guess you're lifting, then."

JJ sighed and slipped her heels off. She braced herself, grabbed a box, and impressively lugged it all the way back across the room before dropping it on the table, which creaked dangerously. Emily handed her her shoes.

They took a few files each and started to alphabetize them into the file cabinets.

After about two minutes, Emily sighed dramatically. It seemed ridiculously loud due to the dead silence from the rest of the basement.

"Let's play a game," suggested Emily.

"What game?" asked Reid.

"I don't know."

They fell into silence again.

"Let's look for baby names!" JJ said, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"We're picking my baby's name from our old case files now?" Emily asked doubtfully.

"Sure, why not?" said JJ. "Okay, first one. Will- Actually, you're not allowed to name your kid William," she said sharply.

"Wasn't planning on it," said Emily, eyeing JJ warily. Instead of dwelling on it, JJ quickly moved to the next name in the file.

"James?"

"Meh."

"Mary? Caroline?"

"Mary sounds too old. Caroline isn't terrible, but I'm not crazy about it."

"You could do Carrie for short," JJ suggested.

"Caroline is Italian and it means 'strong'," Reid added.

"Wasn't that Mrs. Rossi #1's name?" Emily asked.

"Oh, yeah," said JJ, her face scrunching up. "Never mind."

"Hayden is a nice name, though," said Reid, referring to Mrs. Rossi #2. "It works for a boy or a girl, and it means 'heathen'."

"Or if it's a girl, I could name her Krystall, with a K and two L's," Emily joked. Mrs. Rossi #3.

"Yeah, _or_," said Reid, looking up at them with a smirk on his face, "You could just name her JJ!"

"Oh, shut up," JJ said, trying not to laugh as she elbowed Reid in the ribs.

"How about Elian?"

Emily made a face.

"Hollis?"

"Ehh –"

"Hold on, is that from the Miami case from January 2011?" asked Reid.

"Umm," JJ looked at the front page of the file. "Yeah."

Emily's jaw dropped. "They're _four years _behind on filing?"

"Jesus Christ," said JJ, looking back at her stack. "I thought Cruz said they were just a little behind because of the academy exams?"

"That's what he said," Emily agreed. "This is insane. I wonder…" She turned back to the big box JJ had brought to the front of the room, and pulled out a file that was roughly five inches thick. "Yep, here it is. Damn, I can't believe this isn't even in the drawers yet."

The Doyle file in all its glory. She flipped it open, read a few sentences, and smiled at Hotch's familiar, scruffy handwriting – but then winced a little and shut it. It seemed way too weird reading about it like it was just any old case. Like it was just a routine.

Regardless, Emily held the file for a few seconds, feeling its weight in her hands. Thinking about how all of the papers crammed into that file proved that this all really _had _happened to her.

She suddenly felt something hit her back, and she turned around to see both JJ and Reid feigning innocence. She looked down and saw a paper airplane on the ground.

"Childish," she accused, turning back to the box.

Another paper airplane hit her in the back.

"Are you two challenging me?" she asked, setting the huge file back on the pile.

"Who, us?" JJ asked, pointing from herself to Reid and making a face like Emily was crazy. "Of course not."

"I am an expert at this," said Emily, finding a blank page after flipping through a few files. She carefully folded it and threw it at JJ – it veered hard to the left and hit the filing cabinet.

"Are you _sure _you're an expert?" Reid teased.

Emily scowled. "Well, that sheet had all the fringes on it still –"

"Excuses, excuses."

"I'm serious! If I had some of that cardstocky paper that Morgan has on his desk, I'd be able to make the most kickass paper airplane –"

"Go get it then," JJ challenged.

Emily stared at her. "I'm not going up there by myself."

"I'll come," JJ said. "I wanna see this kickass paper airplane," she explained, clearly not thinking that Emily could _really _build a good one.

"Well don't leave _me _here," said Reid. "I don't like this basement any better than you two do –"

"Then come with us," JJ said as though this was the obvious solution.

Reid sighed. "Fine."

They shut the doors to the archives, turned off the lights, and JJ and Emily graciously resisted the urge to sprint down the dark, damp basement hallway so that Reid, on crutches, could keep up with them.

All bets were off when JJ saw a huge spider on the wall, though.

"Oh, hell no!" she huffed, swatting at it with her Cheeto bag and taking off down the hallway. Instead of dying, the spider went missing. Reid crutched so fast Emily could hardly believe it – and though she wasn't personally afraid of spiders, the basement really _did _give her the creeps, so she took off running down the hallway too, just so as not to be left alone down there.

They were all huffing by the time they got on the elevator, and Reid slammed the CLOSE DOOR button and the button for the 6th floor. None of the three of them would ever openly admit how happy they were to be out of that basement.


	28. Chapter 28

It had been a rough week. Being whisked off to do a hundred different tests and exams wasn't exactly their idea of fun – they actually preferred to be dealing with psychopaths. Hogan's Alley had gone well, until Morgan had pouted for nearly two days straight after he'd been hit by Rossi's paintball. Morgan broke his own record for most sit ups in sixty seconds, Garcia managed to run a mile in twelve minutes, which was considered "good enough" for her position. Hotch had nailed the firing range – nothing unusual there – and everyone else had passed, too, even Reid, who had improved greatly since last time they did requalifications. Emily and JJ spent a lot of time pretending they were doing things while the others did hand-to-hand combat and other tasks that were deemed too dangerous for them – Reid had been given an actual project, but they were still technically supposed to be filing in their free time. Mostly they hid in JJ's old office, or in Morgan's old office, or in Rossi's office… pretty much anywhere but their desks. They even spent a lunch break with Kevin down on the third floor, which had been super awkward until Seaver found them and rescued them.

They decided that they weren't really big fans of Kevin.

"Last day of requalifications," Reid said as they all settled in on that Friday morning.

"Thank God," said Rossi.

"Never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait to get back on that jet," Morgan admitted.

"Me neither," Emily agreed eagerly as she took her rain jacket off. "I didn't realize it, but I get a little stir-crazy when I'm not on a plane for more than a few days."

"Hello Baby Bump," Morgan quipped as Emily tossed her jacket over her desk chair. "Was that thing there yesterday?"

"Oh my God, I know, right? It came out of nowhere. It's about damn time, too, I was starting to worry."

"Morning everyone," said Hotch as he got off the elevator.

"Morning, Sir," they all chorused.

"How are you?" Emily asked him.

"I'm alright," he answered. "Wow, Prentiss, you're glowing."

"Thank you, sir," she smiled flirtatiously – maybe a little more so than she should've, given that the entire team was right there watching. Garcia and JJ exchanged knowing glances, and Rossi raised his eyebrows at Hotch, who ignored him.

"What's on the agenda for today?" Blake asked.

"Psych evals."

There was a collective groan.

"Don't they realize that we write the questions?"

"I don't know," Hotch said. "I wish we could skip it, too. They're doing them in my office, so I'll be working from the round table room. They're going alphabetical, Alex, so you're first."

"Oh, joy," the older woman replied sarcastically.

For the next few hours the bullpen was weirdly quiet, the only sounds were the scratching of their pens and pencils and JJ's foot tapping frantically on the tile floor.

Morgan finally tossed his pencil down and spun around on his chair to face JJ. "Alright, jitterbug. What's eatin' ya?"

The tapping stopped abruptly and JJ looked apologetic. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Now come on, tell me."

She didn't reply.

"Don't tell me you're scared of a little psych evaluation."

She scowled at him.

"Aw come on. Big, badass Agent Jareau is scared of an interview to which she knows not only all of the questions, but also all of the correct answers?"

"It's not the scripted part I'm worrying about."

"Not a fan of improv?"

"Not a fan of them digging where they don't need to dig."

"That's the point of the evaluation, though," Reid said, joining the conversation. Emily turned around then, too.

"I know, but – you know they spend the whole time just picking off scabs."

Then Emily understood. "You're worried they'll ask about Hastings and Askari, aren't you?" she asked softly. It seemed like ages ago that she'd gotten that phone call from Hotch that JJ was in trouble, and she'd been on the plane ten minutes later. But in reality, it hadn't quite even been a year.

JJ looked over at her, and then down at her shoes. "Yeah."

Emily reached over and squeezed her hand.

"And… I'm still… I'm still not ready to talk about Will," she whispered.

Emily looked at her, eyebrows knitted together in concern. Reid's mouth formed a thin line and Morgan just looked pissed. They all wished they could do something to protect JJ, to shield her from blunt questions about the painful things she was going through from people who didn't really care, but in reality there was nothing they could do. At least Morgan and Reid knew the story; Emily just found herself getting more and more pissed at Will without having any idea why.

When JJ was called up, the other three agents sat at their desks getting nothing done, shooting concerned glances at each other and at the closed blinds of Hotch's office. JJ's interview was a half hour longer than even Hotch's had been – his had always been longest in the past – and when she finally came out, she looked shaken.

She shot a tiny, watery smile in their direction, mouthed "I'm okay," and headed straight into Rossi's office, where she remained for the rest of the afternoon.

Emily's name was finally called out at 4:00 pm. She went up the stairs with a sinking feeling in her gut – sharply contrasting the butterflies she usually felt on the way to this particular destination. She'd started thinking of going up to Hotch's office as a treat – well, not today.

She shut the door quietly behind her and went to sit in the chair on the right. The one on the left was forbidden: only Rossi sat in that one. It was an unspoken rule. But the chair-that-wasn't-Rossi's had a stack of files on it. Slightly thrown off, she sat in Rossi's chair. It felt weird, wrong somehow. She didn't want to start her evaluation off balance, so she scanned the room for something that would help her focus. And her eyes landed on the photo of Jack that sat on the bookshelf behind Hotch's desk. Seeing those sweet dimples always made her feel better. She folded her hands over her baby bump and tried to force herself to relax.

The interview started the way it usually did: family relationships.

"How is your relationship with your family?"

"Same as always. I don't know my dad. I don't speak with my mother, because she wasn't around much when I was younger. We were never close. I've accepted it."

The psychologist looked annoyed that she'd answered all of the follow-up questions without being prompted, but she wasn't surprised. Probably everyone before her had done the same thing.

"Are you married?"

"No," she answered, knowing very well that that information was in the file that the woman was looking directly at.

"Have you ever been married?"

"No."

"Are you currently seeing anyone?"

Emily's heart skipped a beat – she wasn't sure if she and Hotch were technically seeing each other, nor did she know what answer he'd given when asked during his evaluation – but she answered "No" without giving anything away.

"And what is your relationship with the father of your child?"

Oh, fuck. She hadn't even considered that they'd be asking about _that_.

And anyway, what _was_ her relationship with the father of her child?

"Um," – not her smoothest start, she would admit – "Well, we're not… we're not together anymore."

"Why is that, do you think?"

_Lie!_ her instincts screamed. "Well… we're just… very different people." The sad thing was, that _was_ a lie. "We just sort of… stopped seeing each other."

"Did you fight?"

Memories flooded her mind – kicks to her ribs, flying through the table, hitting him with the splintered leg, getting him in a chokehold. The lights going out, distracting her – and then the pain –

"Yeah, we fought."

"Does he know about the baby?"

"Yes." She frowned a bit after saying this – she realized she knew it to be true. He would know by now. Somehow.

Even more startling was the realization that this didn't bother her. She'd thought she had Lauren under control, but maybe she didn't. She had to keep reminding herself that Ian Doyle was not who he had been in Tuscany. The whole reason she'd been there in the first place was because he was dangerous.

Her hand dropped down to the scar as it usually did when she needed to remind herself what he was capable of, but for the first time she could actually feel her protruding abdomen through it – Bean's growing had finally reached above her navel.

And so today, touching that scar – it didn't make her afraid. It brought that familiar ache back. The dull ache of missing him.

Oh, she was in trouble.


	29. Chapter 29

She and Hotch went to California that weekend to interview Charles Manson. Emily was bouncing in anticipation the entire flight there, much to Hotch's amusement. She'd been pouring over case files and articles on the man for weeks; she'd even reread _Helter Skelter. _

"You into those protein shakes now?" Hotch asked as they exited their hotel rooms at the same time and started down the hallway to head over to the prison.

"No," Emily said shortly, despite the fact that she was holding one in her hand. "I actually _really _hate them."

Hotch stared at her for a second. "Either you suddenly got really bad at sarcasm, or you're actually forcing yourself to drink something you can't stand. And I'm guessing it's not the sarcasm."

Emily sighed. "Yeah. Um, I'm almost through my second trimester and I'm still losing weight, which is freaking my doctor out. I _should _be gaining, like, at least one or two pounds per week, but I'm not – turns out this baby bump is only there because I'm malnourished. I'm pretty sure that it's because when a table leg goes through your torso and they end up removing like half of your intestines from your body, you don't absorb stuff like you should. _Plus, _the baby has all sorts of extra room in there cuz they had to remove like half of my organs. But my doctor seems to think I'm just not eating enough, so whatever. I'm supposed to drink these nasty shakes with all of these additional nutrients and calories and vitamins. Problem is, they make me want to vomit. Which is the opposite of what I'm supposed to be doing."

"They can't be _that _bad," Hotch argued as they walked through the lobby.

Emily's eyebrows shot up. "Um, don't say that until you've tried it." She tossed the bottle to him and he caught it, surprised.

"I can't try this," he said slowly, as though he was trying to come up with an explanation on the spot, "because... You need all the calories."

"Coward."

Now his eyebrows shot up. "Agent Prentiss, I seem to recall walking into a room with a suicide bomber just last week, so I beg to differ."

Yeah, that case had been a fun one. Not.

She shrugged. "I call them like I see them, Sir."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hotch twist the cap off stubbornly and tip the bottle back. About a second later, he started coughing and spluttering.

Emily laughed as he passed the shake back to her. "I told you so."

"I imagine that's how moss would taste."

"Oh my God, you're totally right. Isn't it awful? But I don't have much of a choice. They're threatening to put me back on parenteral nutrition, which is a major pain. It would pull me out of the field for sure. And the IV port freaks me out."

This clearly amused him. "It freaks you out?"

"Yeah, there's this lump and you can kind of feel it when you're moving around, and I always wanted to touch it but you're not supposed to. It's like... Do you remember when you were little and you'd lose a tooth, and you wanted to stick your tongue where it used to be but at the same time, you really _didn't _want to? But you also didn't have a choice? That's how it was."

"You had that when you were in the hospital after Doyle?"

"Yeah. Then that was the only way I was getting any food, so I guess it wouldn't be as bad this time since I can still eat. But I'd still rather avoid it if I can, so," she raised the shake, "Bottoms up."

She took a big gulp and then made a face. For a moment he thought she'd gag, but she managed to keep it down.

"You know," he said as they got into the SUV, "There's another way that you can gain some weight."

She looked over at him suspiciously. "How?"

"I'll just have to start taking you out more."

Emily's jaw dropped and her eyes crinkled. "Wow, Agent Hotchner. That was extremely smooth."

"Thank you, Agent Prentiss. I take it that's a yes?"

"That's definitely a yes."

They arrived and Emily felt rather unfazed – it was nothing more than your average high security prison.

The guard led them into an interview room, giving Emily's stomach a concerned glance. She tugged on her sweater – it didn't camouflage as much as she hoped it would. This seemed to make Hotch nervous.

"Relax," she told him. "Nothing is going to happen."

"You _did _see the photographs of Sharon Tate's body, right? That's what we're dealing with here."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know." He sighed. "Still wish we could have guns in here, though."

A minute later, the door slid open and they brought him in. He looked at them with a weird little smile on his face. He'd brought his guitar with him.

He was old – nearly 80 now, and even though she knew he was only 5'2", his size still came as somewhat of a surprise. The swastika he'd tattooed on his forehead stood out against his sallow skin, and it was the only indicator that he wasn't your average, run-of-the-mill homeless dude.

Until she looked into the eyes. They weren't cold – no, they held a weird warmth, a warmth that wanted to burn you alive. They were wide, flicking back and forth between the two agents, and somehow, they were happy eyes. Happy eyes that glistened with insanity.

Emily instinctively drew nearer to Hotch.

"You look like you coulda been one of my girls," he said, crazy eyes glued to Emily. He spoke softly, almost as if he was trying to get them to lean in closer to him.

Emily's facial expressions were a mask.

Manson leaned forward suddenly in an attempt to do what they'd been warned he always did during an interview – he tried to touch them on their noses.

He was successful, to a degree. He got Hotch and his fingertip grazed Emily's cheek – he'd have gotten her, too, but Hotch had swatted his wrist away.

"You don't touch her," Hotch said sternly in a voice that left no room for argument, fixing his classic Hotch glare on the madman.

The crazy eyes darted from Hotch to Emily and a small, crooked smile appeared on his face. "Alright, chief. She's yours, I get it."

Ignoring this, they started to ask him questions about the usual things. His childhood, when he first got to San Francisco. They talked about his music career – he sang his newest song to them while strumming his guitar. They talked about the "hidden meanings" of the songs in the White Album. When they asked why he'd done the Tate and LaBianca murders, he first repeated what he always said about how he hadn't done it, and then he went on about "helter skelter" and "death to piggies" for a good fifteen minutes, putting particular emphasis on the fact that the police had gotten it all wrong, and their interpretation didn't make any sense. When asked for his interpretation, Manson quickly changed the subject.

He did have a weird presence, though. Emily thought he was absolutely bat-shit crazy, but she was still sort of drawn to him. She could definitely see how he was dangerous.

Hotch threw her an apologetic glance when Manson started talking about his sex life.

When Hotch managed to steer the conversation back to the murders, Manson just kept repeating, "I didn't kill nobody" in fifty different ways.

Seeing that they wouldn't be getting much else out of him, they decided to call it a day.

They didn't talk until they were out in the parking lot.

"What'd you think?" Hotch asked.

"Deranged little Rumpelstiltskin."

He laughed – a genuine, hearty laugh with a smile and everything. Emily's heart leapt and then she started laughing, too.

"We shouldn't laugh about this," she breathed.

"I know," he said, sobering up. "Sorry."

They got into the SUV and Emily immediately started giggling again.

"Prentiss –"

" – I'm so sorry, Hotch, I don't even know why I'm laughing," she started to explain, but then Hotch started chuckling again, too.

"Let's get Chinese," Hotch wheezed when they finally stopped laughing long enough to talk, ribs aching. Emily eagerly agreed, and they went back to the hotel.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" she asked, surprisingly not feeling shy about asking him to come over.

"Sure," he agreed readily. "I'd like to shower first, though – I always feel dirty coming out of a prison."

"Me, too. Come over when you're done. Don't forget to wash your nose," she joked as they went into their separate rooms. Emily opened the door that joined her room to his, and she dragged her go-bag into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower.

When Hotch finished, he went into Emily's hotel room and took a seat on the bed with the food. He grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels, looking for a movie.

Emily's phone started ringing a few minutes later.

"Em?" he called through the bathroom door. "Your phone –"

"Can you get it? I'll be out in two minutes!"

He dug it out of her purse and answered it.

"Hey, Mom, are you okay? You were supposed to text me when you got done with that interview, and it's getting late –"

"Actually, Declan, this is Agent Hotchner."

The boy paused. "Where's Emily? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She's in the shower."

"Oh," Declan answered, a little taken aback. _Why was her boss answering her phone while she was in the shower? _"Um, could you ask her to call me when she's done?"

"Yeah, of course. Oh, actually, Declan, she's done now. Here she is."

Emily padded over to the bed and took the phone. "Hi, hon. What's up? … Oh, I'm sorry, I totally forgot…. I didn't mean to worry you… I know. Oh, Dec, I don't even know how to describe him. Pure crazy."

Hotch stopped listening, distracted momentarily by the view of Emily's soft curves under her loose pajama t-shirt, the scent of her shampoo wafting towards him as she sunk down on the bed next to him.

"Wha – Declan, I don't really think that's any of your business," Emily was saying, flustered. She glanced over at Hotch as though hoping he hadn't heard.

He hadn't, but he was definitely listening now.

Emily, realizing this, switched to French mid-sentence. He scowled and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Bien, impertinente. Je te parlerai demain. Je t'aime." She hung up and turned to him. "Dec says good night."

"What was he asking about?"

She raised her eyebrows and smiled, biting her lip. "You."

Hotch's eyebrows shot up, too. "What'd you tell him?"

"Don't worry, sir. I don't kiss and tell."

"Sir?" he teased.

"Hotch," she corrected herself.

"Aaron," he offered.

She looked up at him, head tilted to the side, considering. "Aaron, then," she conceded.

His eyes smiled and one of his rare dimples appeared.

"You know, this is probably the weirdest date I've ever been on," she said.

"Oh?"

"Interviewing a notorious killer followed by Chinese food and a movie? I mean, don't get me wrong, that's some romantic shit right there, but…"

Hotch laughed. "Sorry, I guess my dating skills are a little rusty."

"So… are we _dating, _then?" she asked hesitantly.

"I think so. Do you?"

"Yeah, I do."

He pulled her against his side and kissed the top of her head. She tilted her chin up and their lips met in a long, gentle kiss. She huddled under his arm, her head resting in the crook of his neck. She could hear his heartbeat and it was putting her to sleep. She was almost out when Bean kicked her hard in the side.

"Oh," she breathed, startled.

"That was a good one," Hotch commented, brow knitted together. "You okay?"

"Mhm. Little one's been moving like crazy lately. I'm still getting used to it."

"Can I?" he asked, looking at the bump. Even through her t-shirt he could see her skin ripple with each of the little nudges.

"Yeah."

He laid his hand over where the kicks were occurring, and Emily responded by relaxing further into his touch. It felt _so _right. She slid her hand over his, holding it in place.

A few minutes later, Hotch felt her head drop down onto his shoulder and her breathing evened out. Her hand still held his, and the baby's now-gentle kicking continued for a few more minutes.

Their movie ended and he shut the TV off and almost went back to his own room – but in the end, he opted to stay right where he was. He shifted Emily so they were lying down and placed his hand gently on her stomach again. The last time he had felt these movements of a tiny life, he'd been holding his own pregnant wife like this, filled with the awe and anxiety of a soon-to-be-dad. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine that this baby was his – but then he realized he was majorly out of his place thinking like that. But he kept his hand right where it was.

His last thoughts before he, too, succumbed to sleep were that maybe, just maybe, Emily and her baby could someday be his, too.


	30. Chapter 30

Emily was laughing as she and Morgan exited their baking class that Saturday. The two of them had looked long and hard for some type of activity that they could do together, and when they found this class, it seemed perfect. After all, they _did _both love pies.

After what had just happened, though, they thought that baking pies was probably best left for the experts. Unless you preferred pies that were somehow burnt black on the outside, yet the apples on the inside were still raw.

Turns out, it actually _was _important to follow the directions exactly as the teacher wrote them. Emily and Morgan had thought that was a bluff, but apparently it wasn't.

"I think it's just because we missed the first week," Emily said jokingly. A case had come up last Saturday, preventing them from making the first class. Not that they weren't used to that - Emily had tried to sign up for a lamaze class only to back out when she missed the first _five _sessions due to work, and JJ and Morgan regularly missed their weekly yoga class.

"Probably," he agreed, grinning. They both knew damn well that that wasn't why they'd fucked their pie up - it was definitely due to the fact that they'd made well over ten alterations to the recipe. But whatever, they were having fun.

"We need to find more stuff to do together," Emily said, realizing how much she'd missed hanging out with him. "You and Garcia do stuff all the time, and I feel like you see JJ way more often than you see me."

He nodded. "We go running before work every morning."

Emily made a face. "Disgusting."

He chuckled. "Well, what else can we do together? You need any help with baby stuff? As you may know, I am a professional father."

"Oh, _professional,_" she said, feigning seriousness. "Damn, that's impressive. Please tell me your secrets."

He elbowed her playfully. "Seriously, though. If you need help with remodeling the nursery or anything, that's right up my alley."

Emily winced. She'd barely given any thought to the nursery, actually. Not since she first moved into the apartment. The walls were painted and there was a bit of furniture, but other than that, it was completely bare.

"Actually, yeah. There's this bassinet I'm looking at," she told him. "They have it at the mall. I want to buy it but I can't carry it myself."

Morgan flexed his muscles dramatically. "You came to the right place."

She rolled her eyes and they walked across the street to the mall and found their way to Babies R Us.

It took them quite a while to find the aisle with the bassinets and cribs. They wandered throughout the store, looking in awe at all of the baby stuff.

"How much of this shit is actually necessary?" Emily asked him under her breath.

"Almost none of it," he replied quietly. "You need your crib or bassinet or whatever. Bottles. There's a hundred different kinds, so I'd just ask JJ what she uses. I'd recommend Kendall's brand, but they're some glass ones and they're like recycled or all natural or something like that, and they have this built in filter thing that Garcia thought would be good but really it just makes them a pain in the ass to clean. I'd go plastic, too. We've shattered like a dozen glass ones. You'd be surprised how easy it is to drop a bottle in the middle of the night while you're trying to hold onto a squirmy, crying baby."

Emily listened carefully as they wandered down the next aisle - bouncy chairs.

"Now you'll definitely need blankets," he told her, "But you don't actually need to _buy _them, cuz between you and me, literally everyone who knows you're having a baby will probably buy you blankets. I don't know why. Diapers would be much more functional. You can't have too many diapers. You _can _have too many blankets, which Kendall does. So if by some miracle you end up short on blankets, gimme a call and I'll grab a stash for you."

"Should I start buying this stuff now?" Emily wondered aloud as they walked down the diaper aisle.

"Probably," Morgan said. He looked down the aisle, examining all of the different boxes, and he threw one in her cart.

Emily looked at it. "Damn, diapers are expensive."

"Yeah, they are. Kiss half of your paycheck goodbye," he joked. "Unless you wanna use cloth ones?"

She made a face.

He laughed. "Yeah, me neither. Also, don't forget wipes." He turned to look at her. "Here's a good rule of thumb. How many packages of wipes do you think you'll need for the first week?"

Emily frowned. She had no idea. "I don't know, two or three?"

"Double it." He threw six into the cart.

They moved to the next aisle.

"Oh, I forgot I'll need to buy a pram, too," Emily said, starting to get stressed. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of all of this sooner - she'd done next to nothing for baby shopping.

"A pram?" Morgan teased. "You're not in London anymore, princess -"

"A _stroller _then," she said with an eyeroll. "Got any advice on those?"

"Yeah, use Henry's old one," he said. "Garcia and I bought a new one for Kendall cuz when she was born, JJ didn't know she was having twins yet. She ended up buying a double one, so I'm pretty sure Henry's is up in their attic somewhere. You probably do need a new car seat, though. Those aren't supposed to be handed down."

"Anything else I need, professional father Derek Morgan?" she asked teasingly.

"I dunno. Probably a pack and play and a highchair eventually, but that can wait. Um... You'll need breastfeeding stuff, but that sounds like something that you'd be better off asking JJ about... Baby washcloths are good, but you don't need the baby bathtub - kitchen sink works just as well. I wouldn't buy too many clothes, either. Garcia will probably buy you more than your kid can wear before it grows out of everything. I don't think Kendall ever wore anything more than once. And we still have all of it, and JJ still has hers from the boys, so we've got you covered for both genders. Burp rags, crib sheets. Baby nail clippers," he said suddenly when his eyes landed on a pair. He threw them right into her cart.

"Baby brush?" she asked, spotting one farther down the aisle.

"You don't even know if it's gonna have hair," he pointed out.

She winced. "It'll have hair _eventually_."

"They'll probably give you a brush at the hospital. Ah, here's the bassinets," Morgan said as they rounded the corner. "Which one did you want?"

"That one," she said softly, pointing to it. Her hands involuntarily came to rest on her bump.

Pretty, white, and lacey, the bassinet was vintage-looking. It had a little hood at one end to block the sun during a daytime nap, and it was on a rocker, which Emily hoped would help the baby fall asleep.

It looked pretty much exactly like the one she'd found in the attic of the Tuscan villa, the one that Declan had used as a newborn. The one that she imagined had sat next to Ian's impressive king-sized bed with those dark red sheets that she loved.

No, this bassinet definitely wasn't an Emily choice. It was a Lauren choice.

But that was okay, because if there's one thing that Lauren and Emily could agree on, it's that this baby would be better off if it was Lauren's baby, and not Emily's. Because to Emily this baby was just a constant reminder of the fact that she was raped, but Lauren... Lauren had _dreamt_ about this baby.

_Her period was late. Twelve days late, to be exact. _

_That wasn't _that _late, not really, but... She had to know. _

_Lauren had spent all morning wondering if this was it, if this was the time she was actually going to be pregnant. She'd been with Ian for over two years now, and based on the amount of sex that they had, it really didn't make sense that she _hadn't _gotten pregnant yet. _

_What surprised her though was that this time she found herself actually wanting a baby. She hadn't worked up the courage to take the test yet, but a few days ago she found her hands resting over her belly button, cradling where their baby might be growing. That'd been happening more and more often as the next few days passed, and now here she was, sitting on the bathroom countertop waiting for the test to be ready. _

_Her watch beeped and she froze. With shaking hands, she reached over to grab the little stick, and she flipped it over to look at the result - _

_A negative sign. _

Thank God, _the tiny part of her that was still Emily, that was still doing this as a mission, had thought, relieved. _

_Lauren had _cried_. And when she opened the bathroom door and Ian was standing right there waiting for her... He looked angry, like she had done something wrong. Like she was hiding something from him. _

"_Why didn't you tell me you're late?" he asked, eyes flashing. _

"_It doesn't matter. It's negative," she'd whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. _

_His anger was replaced with surprise. And why wouldn't it be? Up until this point, she'd made no indication that she wanted children, despite the love that she obviously had for Declan. She'd buried herself against his chest, and he just held her there, gently stroking her back. "I thought you didn't want any." _

"_I - but when I thought that I was actually -" _

_He'd kissed her on the top of her head. "It's okay, love. If you decide you want one, we'll have one. I promise." _

_Lauren _did _want one. But at the time, Emily had kept her from saying anything about it. _

But now they were having one.

And, she realized as Morgan called the sales associate over, people in the store _definitely_ thought that her and _Morgan_ were having one. Together.

"You know people think we're a couple, right?" Emily whispered to him as the worker went to look for the bassinet in the back.

"Yeah, I know," Morgan said, grinning. "_Dear._"

Emily rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. Her phone dinged, and she pulled it out of her jacket pocket, careful to tilt the screen away from Morgan's curious gaze.

_**Hotch: **_**Need any snacks for work? Grocery shopping right now. Let me know. **

She knew Morgan was watching her, but she couldn't stop a tiny smile from growing on her face as she typed out her reply. **Pineapple? I ran out yesterday. Thanks! **

But right before she could hit send, another message came in.

_**Hotch: **_**I already got pineapple. **

Emily laughed. Morgan tried to peer over her shoulder, but she danced out of the way. **You know me too well. Can you grab some salsa? Just the stuff in the jar? **

_**Hotch: **_**Sure.**

The worker came back with a big box and heaved it into Emily's shopping cart, and she let Morgan push it to the front of the store. They walked past the bottle aisle again.

"Hold on, Morgan, can we look at these for a minute?"

He dramatically stopped pushing the cart and took a few backwards steps.

"You have any idea what you're looking for?" he asked her doubtfully as she typed out another message to Hotch. **Hey, this might be a long shot, but do you have any idea what kind of bottles Jack used when he was little? Morgan and I are baby shopping. **

"Maybe," she replied to Morgan, eyes scanning the rows.

"Did you ask JJ?"

"Yeah, I asked..." she said, trailing off at the end. It wasn't _exactly _a lie.

_**Hotch: **_**Dr. Brown's. MORGAN took you baby shopping? Ha!**

She smiled again, finding a package of the right brand and adding it to the cart. Bean would have Declan's bassinet and Jack's bottles. She rested a hand on the bump.

**I know, I know. He's been surprisingly helpful. Probably not my first choice, but he can lift stuff that I can't. And he seems to know what he's talking about. Although I'm not sure if that's real knowledge or Morgan's overconfidence tricking me. Lol.**

_**Hotch: **_**Beware of the overconfidence. If you ever want me to go baby shopping with you, let me know. I'd be more than happy to. **

As the cashier rung up their items, Emily was pretty much beaming at her phone. **Yeah, that'd be great! **

"Girl, who are you texting? That's not a smile for JJ," Morgan said knowingly.

"None of your business," she replied in a tone that indicated that it wasn't a topic for discussion, but the smile never left her eyes. She started to pull her wallet out of her purse, but the cashier interrupted her.

"Are you Emily Prentiss?"

Emily blinked, surprised. "Yeah..."

"Your purchase has been taken care of," the girl told her.

"By who?" Morgan asked, frowning. His stance became protective.

"He didn't give a name," she said cautiously.

Morgan looked at Emily. "You have any idea who it could've been?"

Her fingertips were practically clawing the scar, almost as though she was trying to scoop it off of her skin. "No," she lied. She was pretty sure she knew _exactly _who it was.

Morgan turned to the cashier and showed her his credentials. "Does this store have cameras?"

The girl looked like she was starting to get very concerned. "They're not working. The system has been down all week. Do I need to call my manager?"

"No, that's okay," Emily told her quickly. Morgan gave her a funny look.

"Do you think you could describe this guy to a sketch artist?"

"Seriously, Derek," Emily whined. "Just forget it. Maybe it was just some random nice dude with too much money on his hands..."

"Some random nice dude that knew your name?" he asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.

Emily faltered. "I don't know! I don't think we need to launch a full-on FBI investigation over it, though!" she said, maybe a little too defensively.

"Alright, princess," Morgan said in surprise, backing down. "Fine. You're sure, though? You haven't had anyone following you?"

"Not that I know of," she replied. One of her hands reached up almost involuntarily to brush the brand on her chest, but she realized what she was doing and played it off like she was flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Are you sure?" he asked, eyes searching hers. He was profiling her now.

"What did I tell you about profiling me?" she replied dangerously. Answering a question with a question was a pretty obvious defense mechanism, but Morgan let it go.

"Fine. Sorry." He turned back to the cashier and handed her one of his cards. "You see that guy again, you call me. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir." The poor girl looked terrified.

"Have a nice day," Emily said to her, wincing sympathetically as they pushed the cart out the doors. They got to her car and he heaved the box and her bags into the trunk.

Emily knew Morgan was about to try to get her to talk about this more, so she quickly changed the subject. "Hey, what time is it?"

He looked down at his watch. "3:15."

"Are you going to the soccer game tonight?" she asked him. Rossi's church had a few teams for younger kids, but they combined the grades because there weren't enough players. Henry and Jack were on the same team, and JJ and Hotch were coaching. Tonight was their first match.

"Yeah, I think so. Are you?"

"Yeah. It's at 6. Do you want to just hang out here until then?"

"Are you _sure _you don't have a stalker? Cuz if you think you might, I'm getting you the hell out of here right now."

"Derek, I think I'd know if I had a stalker," she said pointedly.

He looked at her as though he was trying to read her eyes. To see if there was any fear behind the way she was casually brushing this off.

Emily allowed Lauren to take over for a second - Lauren being the part of her that was still madly in love with Ian, that ached for him, that felt horrible for betraying him, that _knew _he would never really hurt her, that wasn't slowly falling in love with Aaron Hotchner. The fear that Emily had - that Doyle would hurt her or the baby, or Declan or the team - it shrunk down to nothing, and a Lauren expression crossed her face. Lauren loved dancing with the devil, flirting with disaster. She wasn't scared.

Morgan bought it. "Alright, fine. You got your gun on you?"

"Always," Emily replied easily.

"Good. I actually... Well, while we're here, we may as well. I should probably get some female advice on this, anyway. Come on."

He started walking down the road briskly - he was nervous, she realized - and she had to trot to keep up with him.

"Slow down, you bastard. I'm pregnant and wearing heels. Where are we going, anyway?"

"You'll see when we get there," he said cryptically. "Actually, no. I'll tell you now so you don't make assumptions. We're going to the jeweller -"

"-so you can get a ring for Savannah?" Emily asked excitedly, knowing full well that that was the assumption he didn't want her to make.

"No - damn it, woman, that's exactly what I was trying to prevent! We have _not _been together that long. Well, actually, it's our six month anniversary _and _her birthday in three weeks. That's why we gotta go to the jeweller."

"What are you getting her? Necklace?"

"I was thinking earrings."

"Matching necklace and earrings?"

Morgan winced. "We'll check the price tag."

"It's your anniversary _and _her birthday," Emily reminded him.

Morgan rolled his eyes and held the door for her as they went into the store.

The sales attendant quickly came up to them and asked if they were looking for an engagement ring. They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"Yeahh, we're not together," Emily chuckled.

"No, definitely not. I am looking for earrings and _possibly _a matching necklace. She just tagged along."

"Well, sir, that selection is right over here," the man said to Morgan.

"I'm gonna look around," Emily told him. "Let me know when you find something and I'll come look at it. Get you that 'female advice'."

"Alright, princess. Behave yourself."

"Don't tell me what to do," she replied cheekily before wandering off to look at the engagement rings.

At first she entertained herself by trying to find a ring similar to JJ's - 10 carat diamond, princess cut, on a platinum band - and when she did, her jaw literally dropped at the price tag. $103,000. Leave it to Rossi to spend more on a ring than some people would on a house. Bastard probably bought it with cash, too.

Emily started to wander towards the necklaces, but then something caught her eye. The Gimmel rings.

As hard as she tried not to look, she had to. She peered in through the glass case, admiring the pretty gold rings with the little clasped hands, and her fingers reached for where her own ring - Lauren's ring - had once hung around her neck.

They of course came up empty. A little bit of anxiety bubbled up in her chest when she feared she'd lost it... But then she reminded herself that she shouldn't _care _if she lost it. She shouldn't really even still have it. Yet when she remembered that the ring was tucked safely in an envelope in her safe along with the rest of the stuff that had to do with Ian, she felt a little better.

_Pull it together, Em, _she thought dryly.

"Can we get soft pretzels?" Emily asked, coming up behind Morgan.

He turned around, grinning, and chuckled. "I'm sittin' here stressing out about the price of earrings, and you're thinking about food?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm trying to grow a baby here, alright? Besides, it's not like we got to eat any pie this morning."

"Fine, fine. After I pick something out, we can go get pretzels."

"How long is that gonna take?"

He gave her a dirty look. "Faster if you help me."

Emily sighed. "Okay, which ones are you looking at?"

Morgan pointed them all out to her.

Emily glanced at each of them. "Well don't get the jades or the rubies," she said as though it was obvious.

He raised his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"Cuz she doesn't wear earrings like that."

"You've seen her like four times -"

"And I've _never _seen her wear huge studs. She wears the dangling ones."

Morgan thought back. "Alright, you got a point there. She _does _wear the dangling ones more often. That leaves the sapphires and the diamonds."

"The sapphires. But get the ones with silver, not the gold."

"Why?"

"Diamonds are... I don't know. They seem to say something more than sapphires. Probably cuz of engagement rings. Sapphires are pretty, and silver matches a lot more than gold. She can wear them more often."

Morgan looked at her in awe and appreciation. "You a godsend, woman, do you know that?"

Emily flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Yeah. I know. Now let's buy them so we can go get some pretzels."

"Yes, Ma'am."

They wandered down the road to find the main part of the mall and found the food court, where Morgan bought them each a big pretzel. Emily ate hers happily as they wandered around the mall some more, just trying to kill time now. They found some plush soccer balls and bought them for Jack and Henry, window shopped for a while, and then it was time to head over to the game.

"Go, Henry! Run!"

"You can do it -"

"Come on, Henry!"

"GOAL!"

Emily, Morgan, Garcia, Rossi, Reid, and Blake erupted into cheers, hugging each other. Kendall screamed in delight and clapped her chubby fists together. Alex was in Emily's arms, and he let out a startled cry at the sudden loud noise. She bounced him on her hip, rocking him back and forth. "It's okay, baby," she cooed. Luke, who had been napping peacefully on a blanket in front of the metal bleachers, woke with a start and began to cry, and Rossi scooped his son up into his arms. JJ, who was coaching, beamed proudly at Henry from across the field, and even Hotch was smiling and cheering. Jack, who was on the field with Henry, gave his 'cousin' a huge bear hug.

The last minute on the clock ran down, and the team officially won their first game, 3-2. Jack had scored the first two goals, and now Henry did the third - it seemed like the BAU's boys were going to be the best on the team.

The BAU team gathered their things and went over by the soccer team, congratulating JJ and Hotch on their victory. Emily hugged JJ, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but when she gave Hotch a hug, too, a few of them exchanged knowing glances.

JJ, the perfect soccer mom, passed out snacks to the kids, and they all happily wandered away towards their parents, leaving the BAU and company to themselves on the field. Jack happily shared his snack with Emily as he and Henry talked play by play through the game as though they hadn't all just seen it, but they were far from annoyed - the boys were way too cute. Morgan and Emily presented them with the plush soccer balls, which they both loved.

"Now we can play soccer in the house!" Henry exclaimed.

"Yeah!" said Jack.

"Noooo, we cannot," JJ and Rossi and Hotch said together.

Emily laughed. The boys pouted.

"Let's go get some dinner," Rossi suggested.

"You treating?" Morgan asked, grinning.

"You bet."

They all walked down to the parking lot.

"Daddy, can I ride with Emily?" Jack asked Hotch.

JJ wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Morgan and Garcia. Emily rolled her eyes.

"Sure, buddy," Hotch told him. "If Emily doesn't mind."

"Come on," she said to Jack, nodding towards her car. "We'll race your dad."

"Okay!" he exclaimed, hopping into the back seat.

"Hang on," said Hotch, his face breaking into a smile, "My car is way on the other end of the parking lot!"

"That's unfortunate," Emily said, eyes smiling as she got behind the wheel and pulled out.

When they got to the diner - Emily and Jack won the race by a landslide - the team ambled inside to get a table. Once they all sat down, Emily volunteered (she knew it wasn't exactly subtle, but whatever) to go wait for Hotch at the door so he could find where they were sitting.

"Hey," he greeted her when he finally arrived. "How come you're waiting out here?"

"So you can find our table," she explained, smiling. "It's way in the back. They were afraid you'd get lost. _Did_ you get lost?" she teased. "It took you long enough to get here."

"Tried to take a short cut. Apparently it _wasn't _a short cut," he said happily. "I guess you and Jack win this time."

"Should've put money on it," she said, shaking her head.

"You said they're sitting way in the back?"

"Yeah -"

He silenced her with a soft, passionate kiss. When it was done she looked up at him, surprised.

"Risky," she said with a smile and a glance over her shoulder into the diner - there was no way the team could've seen from their table, but...

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," he said, giving her hand a little squeeze. "You looked too damn good sitting on the side of that soccer field."

"Oh, whatever," she laughed shyly.

"It's true," he argued.

"Let's go inside before they come looking for us."

"Okay, okay."

He held the door for her and followed her back into the diner, back towards their team, and when they got into the booth, he sat next to her, and while they waited for their food to come, he held her hand under the table.

She caught Reid, Blake, JJ, Rossi, and Morgan giving her funny looks, probably due to the stupid grin that she couldn't seem to get off of her face, but right now she was too happy to worry about compartmentalizing. This was the perfect night in her opinion - getting outside in the spring air, cheering with her team, watching Hotch be a dad, seeing Jack and Henry so happy, celebrating afterwards...

Maybe Emily _liked _being a soccer mom.


	31. Chapter 31

A few days later they were in the middle of their Monday morning meeting when Emily's phone went off.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking down at it. She hung up and turned back to Hotch, attentive.

The phone went off again, and again she quickly declined the call.

This happened three more times.

"Emily, you can take that, if it's really that important," Hotch told her.

"Oh, um, that's okay, actually. I don't really want to answer it."

"Okay," he replied, looking at her funny. He went back to his spiel.

"Sorry to interrupt, my crime fighting companions," Garcia said a minute later, sticking her head through the door. "Em, you have a phone call."

Calling Garcia? That was low. "Tell him I'm busy."

Garcia winced. "I already told him you're not."

"Tell him you can't find me. I must've suddenly gone for coffee."

Garcia repeated this into her headset. "He doesn't believe me. _Please _just talk to him –"

"No –"

In one last, vain attempt, Garcia threw the phone into Emily's lap and teetered away on her ridiculously high heels just as fast as she could.

"Ugh – Garcia!" Emily whined. She considered just ending the call, but she knew if it came right down to it, he'd show up at her doorstep. Sighing, she lifted the phone up and, getting up to leave the room, said into it, "Hi, Clyde."

"How is your 'sudden coffee break' going?"

"Hmm." Busted. "Why are you calling me?"

"Because to be quite frank, darling, I'm pissed at you."

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed sarcastically. "And you wonder why I don't answer your calls."

"I'm serious, Em. First you're acting all weird and then you up and move across the ocean and change your phone number. And then I find out that not only are you six months pregnant, but you also adopted Doyle's boy? What the _hell, _Em –"

"Who told you that?" _Fucking snitches._

"It doesn't matter. Also, your piece of rubbish ex-boyfriend keeps showing up and demanding that I tell him how to contact you, and it's really starting to annoy. Normally I'd just tell him to sod off, but if that baby is his –"

" – It's not –"

" –Good, then I can tell him to screw off without reservation. Now onto our second order of business, what in the bloody hell were you thinking adopting that kid? You need to stop living in the past and get it through your thick skull that – Are you listening?" he snapped after hearing her scoff. "You need to get it through your thick skull that _Lauren Reynolds is not a real person._ You've got to be the absolute shittiest undercover agent the world has ever seen – you're supposed to come out of character eventually, not get bloody stuck in it forever –"

"Oh, fuck you, Clyde," she whispered furiously as the team came out of the round table room. _Prentisses don't cry, Prentisses don't cry…_

"Good one. You need to learn some loyalty and stop running away every time something gets a little hard, or are you going to end up abandoning those kids of yours, too?"

"How can you even say something like that?" Emily said emptily, fully aware that her eyes were brimming with tears right in front of everyone.

"Look at your record; you're flip-flopping over the pond like some sort of a –"

She hung up, took a deep, shuddery breath to calm herself –

\- and burst into tears.

JJ pulled Emily into her arms, Rossi squeezed her hand, and Reid patted her back awkwardly. Morgan had a slightly different approach – he grabbed the phone from her lap, hit redial, and as he left the room, he said, "Easter, do I need to catch a flight across the ocean to come and whoop your ass?"

Emily somehow managed to stop crying a few minutes later, but for the rest of the day, she felt like shit. She sat at her desk for the next couple hours working herself up – getting angrier and angrier at Clyde. _Who the fuck does he think he is, anyway? _It isn't any of his business whose kid she adopts – it's not like he's her boyfriend, they stopped being friends years ago (probably when she came back from being undercover and couldn't shake Lauren, actually), and she didn't even work for him anymore. It was none of his business what she did with her life – this was pretty much the same fight she'd had with Morgan; there were too many goddamn alpha males trying to control her life.

But, she supposed, there was one alpha male that she was _allowing _to control her life. The same one that had _asked _her to take care of his kid all those years ago. Sometimes she wondered if she would've taken Declan in if he hadn't asked her to. She liked to think she would've, but… She couldn't really say for sure. God, he still controlled her _way_ more than she was comfortable with.

She was out of the bullpen by 4:28 PM – the earliest she'd left in years. Hotch came down a few minutes later looking for her signature on something, and when they told him what had happened, he dismissed himself and left minutes later, leaving a dumbfounded Reid in his wake.

Reid stuck his head in Rossi's office. "Hotch just left."

"And?"

"It's only 4:43."

Rossi's eyes darted to his clock – it was true.

"I've been here thirteen years now and I've never seen him leave this early."

"You're right, kid. Something is definitely up."

"Do you think he's okay?"

"I don't think it's any of our business." Fortunately, he was an expert in all things none-of-his-business. He waited until Reid left and they called Garcia.

"What can I do for you at this hour, my lovely Italian stallion?" she greeted him cheerily.

"Keep an eye on Hotch for me."

"On H – why? What's wrong, is he okay?"

"I think so," Rossi replied carefully. "Just… I need you to make sure."

"Okay, how do you want me to do this?"

"I don't care. Just watch him."

"This feels dirty," Garcia whined.

"Good night, Penelope. Call me when you have something."

Emily's doorbell rang and she tensed, letting Sergio leap off of her lap. She grabbed the gun she kept on her nightstand and slinked down the hallway, cautiously looking through the peephole.

She sighed in relief, swung the door open, and tucked the gun into the back of her athletic shorts. She should've known her departure wouldn't go unnoticed. "Am I that obvious?"

"Well, you weren't exactly subtle," Hotch replied, his eyes searching her face. Concerned.

It was only six and she was already showered and in her pajamas, hair still damp and her make up removed. Her eyes were puffy, and her voice sounded a little thick, but her snarky greeting had him convinced that she would be alright.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Clyde has always been… Blunt. But I've learned to ignore him, mostly."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Um, no. Not just yet," she said, and he saw her fighting back tears again. "Do you want to come in, though? I mean, if you have time or whatever. I case you couldn't tell by my attire, I don't exactly have plans tonight."

"That's good because otherwise these peanuts and mini chewy sweetarts would be going to waste," he said, holding up a grocery bag. Her latest cravings.

"My hero," she smiled as Hotch passed her into the house.

Sergio came running into the hallway, took one look at Hotch, and dashed off into the nursery.

"Your cat hates me."

"He doesn't _hate _you," she argued as she led him into the kitchen. "He just takes a while to warm up to people; that's all."

"What if he hates me forever?"

She looked up at him, amused. "This actually bothers you, doesn't it?"

"No –"

" – It totally does!" Her eyes crinkled. "You're adorable, do you know that? Luckily, Serg is a cat of simple pleasures." She dug through her cupboard and tossed him the bag of cat treats. "If that doesn't work, _then _he officially hates you. Sergio!" she called, and the black ball of fur ran obediently into the kitchen and leapt into her arms. "That's my good, handsome boy," she cooed, running a hand over his back.

"Hey, Sergio," Hotch said, shaking the bag. The cat's ears perked up, and his eyes followed the bag around.

Hotch offered a treat, palm open, and Sergio sniffed, took it, and jumped back into the floor, running to hide under an armchair in the living room. Hotch looked to Emily for interpretation.

She shrugged. "People are a lot easier to read than cats."

They sat in silence for a few moments, comfortable. Emily opened the sweetarts and popped a few into her mouth. "Where's Jack tonight?"

"He's staying at a friend's house for a sleepover."

"On a week night?"

"No classes tomorrow. Teacher work day."

"I see," she said, hoping that meant what she wanted it to. That he'd stay with her. "Hey, there's a marathon of _The Office _on. Wanna watch?"

"The American version, right?"

She scoffed. "Of course. I don't watch trash."

An hour or so later, Sergio leapt into Hotch's lap, circled a few times and laid down. Hotch looked at Emily like a kid on Christmas. She rolled her eyes and leaned further into him.

The marathon finally ended at 11, and before he could say anything at all, Emily looked up at him. "Will you stay with me?" she asked, eyes wide. Vulnerable. "Please?"

"Yeah, of course."

She smiled, then looked away, chewing her lip.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Come on, let's go to bed," she tugged his wrist and he followed her down the hallway. They got ready, brushing their teeth together in the little bathroom, and then they crawled into her bed – which seemed extremely intimate, as the only other times they'd spent the night cuddled up together had been on a couch and in a hotel room.

She giggled into his chest.

"What's so funny, Agent Prentiss?"

"This is the first time we've done this on purpose."

"It is, isn't it?" he asked, absentmindedly running his hand up and down her arm. "I don't know why. I actually quite enjoy having these innocent little sleepovers with you."

"Hmm, yeah. This is nice," she mumbled. They crawled together into her bed.


	32. Chapter 32

"What's that?" Hotch asked a while later.

She looked up from her book. "What's what?"

"A photo album?" Hotch asked, pointing to where it sat on her bookshelf. He'd noticed it because it wasn't in its usual place – and her books were painstakingly organized by language, genre, author, and title. So he knew a photo album didn't belong in the middle of her Stephen King collection.

Emily followed his gaze, and stiffened.

"I'm sorry," he said, realizing that maybe he shouldn't have mentioned it. She _was_ still entitled to privacy.

"No, that's okay," she said, frowning presumably at the album's placement. She started picking her thumbnail. "Declan was looking at it this weekend."

She got out of bed and grabbed it off the shelf, bringing it over to him. He could tell that this was making her anxious.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to show me if you don't want to. I was just wondering."

Emily looked at him, clutching the album to her chest. She bit her lip. This wasn't exactly something she had planned on showing him, but… maybe it'd be good for him to see it. Put all the cards on the table before going any further into their relationship.

She wordlessly handed the book to him. He took it, but didn't open it.

"Are you sure?"

"I… No. Honestly, this scares me a little bit. But… I don't want us to have secrets. So go ahead. Just… Please don't be mad, okay?"

He watched her carefully, starting to get the feeling that he knew what this was about. "You know I care about you, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"I won't get mad," he promised, still looking sternly into her eyes.

She gave him a tiny smile and nodded towards the book.

He flipped it open to the first page. The photos were from Tuscany – at first, just the large villa and lots of gardens, a few expensive-looking cars, some stables, a big fountain. A pair of doves on a bird feeder.

He turned to the next page and Emily sensed the change in his body language. She watched his face carefully, but so far his expressions – and his microexpressions, this time she would admit she was definitely profiling him – they didn't give anything away.

She risked looking away from his face for just long enough for her eyes to dart down to the pictures.

One of the beautiful violet freesias blooming in front of the villa, and then one of a gorgeous chandelier hanging in the dining room over a table carefully set with expensive crystal china.

And then – there he was. Ian, from behind, standing at the stove in a dark red kitchen. He wore a button down shirt and a pair of jeans, and his sleeves were rolled up, and there was a wooden spoon in his hand. He was just making dinner.

The next photo was relatively safe – a large white horse in a pasture. The following one showed the tiny hand and arm of a child, stretched into the view of the camera, offering an apple to the horse.

Next was tiny, three-year-old Declan laughing in a big pile of raked-up leaves. And then there was Emily, looking a bit younger but just as pretty, with her light, curly hair and a pale blue sweater, with Declan up on her shoulders.

More and more photos followed – building a snowman, a vacation on the beach, Declan's birthday, Emily on the horse with Declan in the saddle in front of her, Emily from behind on a balcony, watching the sunset. Emily and Declan in a swimming pool, Emily and Declan hand-in-hand with ice cream cones, Emily and Declan with a big, scruffy-looking puppy, Emily and Declan reading a picture book on a porch swing during a storm. Emily asleep on the couch with Declan curled up under her arm.

Hotch had mixed emotions as he looked through the photos. On one hand, it truly solidified in his thinking that Emily had been Declan's mom, and he her son. But on the other hand… well, although he knew this had all happened, he hadn't fully processed how comfortable Emily had been with Doyle. How close they really were.

The last two photos were particularly striking.

The first was Emily kissing Ian – she was laughing, Hotch could tell, even though the photo was slightly blurry, and there was a finger covering one corner, and it was taken from a very odd, low angle – clearly, the moment had been captured by a young Declan.

The last picture was taken in the bedroom just as the morning light was starting to come through the curtains. Emily was fast asleep on her side in the messy king sized bed. She slept her face buried in a pillow, and she was completely naked, save for the sheets tangled around her legs and hips. Her arm was the only thing blocking her breasts from view. Hotch's eyes trailed her soft curves, and then something caught his eye. It was subtle, but then again, he was trained to notice things.

Yeah, the gentle swell of an early baby bump was definitely present in this photo.

This album was a gift, Hotch realized suddenly. Emily wouldn't have included that picture of herself… which meant that Ian, maybe with the help of Declan, had given this to her. And she'd held onto it for all these years.

He didn't really want to think about what that meant right now, and he could practically sense Emily's growing anxiety the longer he sat there without saying anything.

Tracing the bump in the last photo with his finger, Hotch asked, "Did he know?"

"No," Emily whispered.

"Does he now?"

"I don't think so. The baby… He was too little to make it, he only lived a couple hours," she prattled. Then she reached into her nightstand drawer, dug to the bottom, and pulled out a sonogram photo. She held it out to Hotch hesitantly. She and her doctor were the only ones who had ever seen the image until now.

At first Hotch thought it was Bean, but then he noticed the date. 2007.

Her son would've been just a few months younger than Jack.

"Did he have a name?"

"Yeah, um… Well, Ian and I… We actually talked about names," she admitted, turning red. "I mean, I didn't ever actually think it would happen, but… He liked Mahan for a boy." Hotch didn't say anything, so she continued, once again talking just to fill the silence. "It's sort of a cruel irony, actually… Mahan is Irish, of course, and it means 'early'. And he was born at 24 weeks, which was just, so early… But yeah, that's my Mahan," she said, her voice cracking at the end as she lost the fight to hold back tears.

This startled Hotch, and he quickly turned away from the sonogram to look at her.

She was leaning away from him, arms wrapped tightly around her body, bracing herself… for him to say something cruel, or even worse, for him to leave her.

"Emily," he said gently, putting the picture down on the bedspread so he could hold her. When his hand made contact with her arm, she flinched. He withdrew it. "Sweetheart, I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry that I'm quiet. I'm just processing, okay?"

She didn't reply. Her gaze still rested on her lap.

"Emily, look at me."

She did, reluctantly, and her big brown eyes were full of tears, close to brimming over.

"Can I hold you?" he asked, opening his arms. She leaned into them, and he gently rubbed her back.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed.

"What are you sorry for?"

"I don't know. For loving him, I g-guess," she cried.

"Hey," he whispered into her hair, running a hand up and down her arm. "Baby, you don't have to be sorry for that, okay? Are you listening to me?"

"He's a terrorist," she said angrily. "He sold weapons to God knows who – he's a murderer, and who knows what else he's done –"

"Did you not see those pictures?" he asked, pointing to the album. "He… I mean, he's obviously more than that." As much as he hated to admit it… the man had been good to her.

"Y-yeah," she agreed. "But I should've known better than – it was _so _stupid for me to –" She paused when she felt the album drop into her lap.

Hotch had opened it to a picture of Ian, Emily, and Declan on Christmas morning, in their pajamas… Emily, with a hot chocolate in her hands, was laughing at Ian, who had a Santa hat on his head and was making a funny face at the camera. Declan sat between them with a halfway-unwrapped present on his lap. The look of surprise and delight on his face said that he'd gotten exactly what he wanted most.

Emily looked up at Hotch, confused. "What—"

"You don't have to be sorry about loving him," Hotch told her. "Because the three of you… You were a family."

She sniffled. "Yeah, we were. And… we kind of still are."

He kissed her temple and slid his hand against her stomach – he wanted to make sure the baby was okay despite how upset his/her mother was. The thought that this child, too, was a part of Doyle's family completely escaped him.

In Hotch's mind, this baby was purely Emily's.

"Families are complicated," he said softly, thinking of Hayley. The situations weren't really comparable, but… maybe they were. "Hey, do you still have that?" he asked, pointing to a photo where she had the Gimmel ring around her neck.

Emily reached down her shirt collar, tugged on a little gold chain that Hotch hadn't noticed before, and she pulled the ring into view. She held it out to him, hands shaking slightly.

"I don't wear it all the time," she said quickly. "Just sometimes, when…" She had no idea how to finish that sentence. Just sometimes, when I feel like Lauren? Just sometimes, when I miss him so much that it physically hurts?

Hotch pulled a chain out of his own shirt then, and Emily's lips parted slightly when she saw the engagement ring and wedding band hanging from it. Hayley's.

She looked up at him.

"We're the same," he whispered.

Her eyes filled with tears yet again. How could he possibly compare his relationship with his strong, brave Hayley to hers with her dangerous, cruel Ian?

"You're better than me," she whispered back.

"What makes you say that?"

"Ian was –"

"You're not him."

"No, I'm not," she agreed. "But I _am _Lauren."

"I know."

This surprised her. People didn't usually get it – that Lauren wasn't just an act, she wasn't pretend. But Hotch understood. One look at that photo album had revealed that much to him. She may have technically been Lauren when those photos were taken, but he could tell by her facial expressions and body language that as time went on, the only difference between Lauren and Emily was the name.

He pulled her tight against him in a sudden wave of possessiveness. Because if Doyle really had loved Lauren – and it was clear from the photos that he had – and if Lauren and Emily were really the same – again, clear from the photos – then that meant that Doyle could love Emily, too, if he could forgive her. Hotch wasn't sure if the man was capable of this, but Emily was _his _now, and he wasn't about to let her go without a fight.

He carefully tucked the photo of Mahan into the picture album and set it on the night table.

"Let's go to sleep," he said to her, holding the covers up so she could snuggle farther underneath.

She did, resting her head on his chest, her hand over his heart.

"I really do care about you, you know," he told her.

She picked at her fingernail.

"Why does that make you nervous?" he asked, taking her hand.

"I care about you, too," was her only reply as she settled in.

It wasn't until she was fast asleep on his chest that she realized that maybe that was her answer.

_Lauren felt the little boy's head drop down onto her arm, and she sighed in relief. After hours of bedtime stories and lullabies, and holding him in her arms in the rocking chair, Declan had finally fallen asleep. He was running a fever – not dangerously high, but still concerning._

_Ian was away on a job for the weekend and she was supposed to be relaxing, but the moment she found out Declan wasn't feeling well, she'd taken him from Louise and spent the rest of the day waiting on him. He wasn't his usual bubbly self, but Lauren adored him and she was determined to make sure he felt better before his dad got home. _

_And besides, hanging out with their little boy helped her get her mind off of how much she missed said little boy's daddy. _

_Lauren carefully stood from the rocking chair, trying not to disturb the sleeping child in her arms. Declan was totally limp, which made him sort of hard to grip, and he was getting heavy. She hoisted him up a little higher on her hip, and he stirred. _

_"__Lauren?" he whispered, opening those pretty blue eyes that looked just like his daddy's. _

_She kissed him on the nose. "Go back to sleep, love," she told him gently, using that nickname that Ian reserved exclusively for the two of them. _

_The little boy buried his face in her neck, and she felt his light breathing on her collarbone. _

_There was about a zero percent chance that she was putting him to bed in his own room. Ian didn't like it much when Declan shared the bed with them – his presence eliminated the possibility of spontaneous morning sex, he didn't like to share Lauren's nighttime cuddling, and he didn't want to raise a weak son (despite Lauren's arguing that sharing the bed wouldn't make Declan weak in any way). Right now she didn't care if Ian didn't like it. He wasn't here, and their sweet baby was sick. _

_She tucked him in on Ian's side of the bed before crawling under the covers herself and pulling him up against her side. _

_"__I love you, Mama," Declan breathed just before he fell asleep, and her heart broke a little bit like it always did when he called her that, but she'd never tell him not to. _

_"__I love you, too, baby," she told him truthfully, knowing that he was far too tired to hear her._

_The bedroom door creaked open, and Lauren looked up, surprised. A tender smile crossed her face. _

_"__You're home early," she whispered to him so as not to wake the child that clung to her even in his sleep. _

_He didn't reply. There was something wrong with the way he was looking at her. _

_Protectively, she tugged Declan closer, and fear started to bubble up inside her. "Ian?" she asked, praying that it wasn't what she thought it was. "What's wrong?" _

_"__What's wrong is that I can't decide if I'd prefer to shoot you or strangle you," he said darkly. "But I can't do either because you're using _my _child as a shield." _

_She felt the blood drain from her face. "What – what are you talking about?" she stammered. _

_"__I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, _Emily Prentiss," _he spat. The name clattered in her ears – she _wasn't _Emily; she was Lauren – he wasn't supposed to know that she was Emily – _

_Suddenly he moved dangerously towards her, and his hands collided with her throat. She let out a little shriek, and – _

"Emily," Hotch said, louder this time, and finally her eyes flipped open. She wrenched her arm away from his touch and he watched as she tried to make sense of her surroundings, still in a blind panic from the nightmare. When he'd woken up from her whimpering, it'd taken him a moment to place where he was, too – in her bedroom – but for some reason it took her even longer for recognition to sink in.

Once it did, he reached out to place a hand comfortingly on her thigh, but she inhaled sharply, and, frowning and not looking at him, she breathed, "Please don't touch me right now."

He, of course, pulled his hand away, watching her in concern. She pressed her hands flat against her face, covering her eyes, taking deep, panicked gasps. Wordlessly she got out of her bed and made her way to the bathroom, where she forced herself to look in the mirror.

God, she was a mess. She splashed some cold water on her face, which helped a little. The fear was dissipating only to be replaced with a feeling of deep self-loathing.

That nightmare – she'd had versions of that nightmare a million times before.

Actually, no she hadn't. That wasn't Emily's nightmare. That was _Lauren's _nightmare.

God, she shouldn't have let herself look at that picture album. Crap like this _always _happened when she let herself look at those pictures.

She reached for the gold chain around her neck and yanked it off angrily, only to be filled with the sudden horror that she'd damaged it, and she picked it up again, gently checking to see if she'd broken it, and was relieved when she saw that she hadn't.

_It's all I have left of him, _Lauren thought.

Emily frowned, her fingers once again reaching for the scar he'd left her.

But instead they landed gently right under her bellybutton. The baby kicked. Lauren smiled. _Sorry, love, you're right, _she thought to the baby. _Your daddy left you for me, too, didn't he? _

Another surge of self-hatred, and Emily threw the ring down on the countertop. She felt a sudden urge to get Bean the hell away from her, too, but that wasn't exactly possible. The baby kicked again and she immediately felt guilty for wanting to get it away. She caressed her belly apologetically.

Emily splashed more cold water on her face, still shaken from the dream. His hands on her throat had felt so _real. _

_Count down from ten, _she told herself.

_Ten. _Calm down. _Nine. _I _have_ to calm down. _Eight. _My name is Emily Prentiss. _Seven. _I'm at home, in DC. _Six. _I work for the FBI. _Five. _It was just a dream. _Four. _Ian Doyle is a terrorist. _Three. _I'm safe. _Two. _Hotch is waiting for me. _One. _Lauren Reynolds is dead.

She took a deep breath and looked her reflection in the eye.

"Lauren Reynolds is dead," she whispered furiously to herself.

"Emily," Hotch called her softly through the door. "Honey, are you okay?"

She opened the door and, in lieu of an answer, threw herself into his arms.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked into her hair.

"No, but thank you," she answered into his chest.

He pulled away a little bit and looked down at her, searching her eyes for evidence that she was really okay.

She saw in his expression that he was about to try to get her to talk about it, so she quickly said, "Can we go back to bed?" She ran a hand over the baby bump to hopefully gain a little sympathy, and then she lied, "I'm tired."

"Of course," he said, hoping to soothe her.

They crawled back into bed together, and Emily rested her head on Hotch's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

She was halfway asleep when the sense of guilt slowly creeped into the pit of her stomach.

_You're cheating on him, _Lauren thought. _He was the one, and now you're bedding down with someone else – _

_Lauren Reynolds is dead, _Emily thought once again, tiredly, breathing in Hotch's now-familiar scent and listening to his soft breathing as he slept.

Ian Doyle may have been Lauren's perfect match, but Emily was pretty damn sure that hers was Aaron Hotchner.


	33. Chapter 33

"Oh, my God," Emily said angrily, declining yet another phone call from Clyde. "I'm about to throw this phone in the fucking trash –"

" – How many times has he called you now?" Reid asked from the driver's seat.

"This is thirty-eight! What the hell could possibly be that urgent?"

"Maybe you could, I dunno, answer it?" Morgan suggested.

"No."

JJ and Morgan exchanged tired glances in the back seat. The phone started to vibrate again.

"Ugh! That's it. I'm turning it off. For the rest of today, if you guys need me, call my personal phone."

They rode along quietly for a few minutes. Then her personal phone started ringing.

"Son of a –" she paused when she saw who it was calling. This time it wasn't Clyde; it was Tamsyn Royal, the woman on her Interpol team. She frowned and answered it.

"Hey, Tam. What's wrong?"

"Why d'you always assume something's wrong?"

Emily didn't even dignify that with an answer.

Tamsyn sighed. "Okay, what's wrong is that I have an extremely pissed off Clyde Easter breathing down my neck because you're ignoring him."

Emily winced. "Sorry."

"Does that mean you'll talk to him now?"

"Not a chance."

Tamsyn paused, and Emily heard what sounded like a struggle and Tamsyn's hiss, "Knock it off, Clyde!" – he'd tried to wrestle the phone from her.

"He says it's _really _urgent."

"Why? Does he need to insult me more?"

Tamsyn paused again. "He says it has something to do with Valhalla? What does that mean, Em?"

Emily's breath caught in her throat. Reid, Morgan, and JJ were watching her carefully, concerned.

"Put him on."

"Hi, darling," Clyde drawled. "Fancy talking to you."

"What's going on, Clyde?"

"Alright, don't panic, but –"

"Really?" she hissed, lowering her voice. "You tell me _he's _involved, and you don't want me to panic? You'd better start talking, Easter –"

"Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist. Doyle's villa in Tuscany was just sold."

"So?" she asked, feeling a twinge of sadness – someone else, some other family, would be living in that beautiful home.

"So it was purchased by someone called 'Chuck Murray.'"

Doyle's favorite alias. Emily's heartrate picked up, and she could practically feel the color draining out of her face. "Do you have surveillance –"

" –We're working on it. Is there anything _you'd _like to tell me?"

Now this was tricky. She definitely _should _tell him that Doyle was alive, but she definitely wasn't going to. In the end she decided it was smartest to play dumb, especially since even _Clyde_ couldn't possibly know that he was alive… could he?

"No?"

Clyde sighed. "I can practically hear you tilting your head."

"I'm not," Emily said, scowling as she straightened it. Stupid tells.

"So you're telling me you have no idea why the FBI is running searches on Doyle?"

This time she didn't have to _play _dumb. "What do you mean?"

"Your technical analyst is running an awful lot of searches related to him."

"That's news to me," Emily said, shooting JJ a dirty look. Sounded like either her or Hotch had squealed to Garcia.

"Is it? I find that hard to believe."

"I'm sure you do. Do you… do you have any ideas who might have bought it?"

"Not yet. We're running old allies – do _you _have any ideas?"

"I can put a list together tonight, but right now I'm on a case."

"Pay specific attention to admirers. It's no coincidence that they used the same alias."

"Yeah, that's for damn sure," she muttered. "Keep me in the loop?"

"Darling, you _are _the loop. Everyone else is dead. Do you want your team in on this?"

"Which one?"

"The one with their ears pressed to my office door. Honestly, Em, did you brainwash them? They've been wandering around aimlessly like puppies you decided to abandon. They're quite pathetic."

Emily hummed. "Send them my love."

"I don't send love. Do you want me to tell them, or not?"

"Not just yet. I'll see if I can find out what those searches are about."

"Good. Next time I call, answer."

"Next time you call, don't bash my every decision."

"No promises." He hung up.

"Everything okay?" Reid asked.

"I think so," Emily said with a frown, tucking her phone back into her jacket pocket.

"Wanna talk about it?" Morgan asked, before tilting his head, taking in some air, and saying "No," in a frighteningly good imitation of Emily's voice, specifically the one she used while lying.

JJ giggled.

Morgan's phone rang, and he put it on speaker.

"Hey, Rossi. You got me, JJ, Reid and Prentiss."

"Hey, kids. Why isn't Emily answering her phone?"

"Sorry, Rossi, I turned it off because Clyde kept calling me."

"Oh, no wonder. I called you like twenty times; it kept going right to voicemail."

"Why didn't you try one of the rest of us until now?" Morgan asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Emily is my favorite," Rossi replied simply. JJ's eyes narrowed and her face scrunched up, and she lifted her hand palm up in what could only be described as a what-the-fuck-even manner, but Rossi continued before she could say anything. "Are you on Edgewood Avenue right now?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Victim's friend finally just told us that that's where they brought the marijuana. Apparently there's some drug dealer there called 'Magic Man.' You all interested in buying a little, seeing if you can get anything out of him?"

"Hell yeah, I could go for some weed right about now," Morgan answered cheekily. Emily couldn't tell if he was joking.

"Good. Garcia texted you the sketch. Did you get it?"

"Yeah, just came through."

"Got money?"

"Yeah."

"Park a few blocks away. We don't want him suspecting anything; an SUV might tip him off."

"You got it, Rossi."

"Good lu – wait, hold on." There was a muffled conversation on his end. "Hotch says only Morgan can go."

There was an instant uproar on their end.

"I hear you," Rossi yelled. "I'll put him on, don't argue with me –"

"Morgan goes alone," Hotch said sternly.

They all started arguing again.

"Prentiss, you're visibly pregnant and we don't know if this guy is dangerous. JJ, your head still isn't all the way healed. And Reid, you can't walk."

"It isn't visible; this jacket is huge on me –"

"I highly doubt that he's going to hit me in the head –"

"I can crutch _so _fast –"

"No. Too much could go wrong."

"What happened to 'No one goes anywhere alone'?" Emily asked, scowling.

Hotch sighed. He'd expected this. "I'm not asking you to wait in the car."

"…You're not?" JJ inquired.

"No. But only Morgan approaches him directly. The rest of you walk up and down the street for back up, just in case something goes wrong. Fair enough?"

"Sure," they agreed.

"Okay. And guys… _Please _be careful."

"We will, Hotch."

Two hours later they were all back at the police department waiting for Rossi, Hotch and Blake to return.

Morgan's eye was nearly swollen shut and his hand was in a brace. His jaw was bruising; it had been dislocated and the doctors had just popped it back in a half hour ago. His lip was split.

Reid's bad leg was throbbing like crazy and he had it propped up on a table. He now knew what it felt like to be smacked with his own crutches. Repeatedly. He suspected there would soon be crutch-shaped bruises on his back.

JJ once again had an ice pack pressed to her head, and even though the x-rays proved her wrong, she was pretty convinced that her collarbone was broken. Her arm was in a sling either way; she'd sprained her elbow punching the guy.

Emily's forearms and the pinky-side of her wrists were aching, black and blue, and swelling a little bit. At least she'd managed to block the punches to her face and abdomen. One of her arms was in a sling, too. The drug dealer had casually tossed her into the side of a brick building, like a ragdoll. Strained something in her shoulder.

But the baby was okay, thank God. Even though he/she was kicking Emily's side pretty damn hard right now, which didn't feel very good.

The rest of their team walked in then.

"You look like hell," Rossi commented, carefully pulling JJ into a hug. "Are you all okay?"

"My ego isn't," Emily muttered.

Morgan snorted. "Ain't that the truth."

"Where were your guns?" Blake asked.

"In the car," Reid said regretfully. "Didn't want to tip him off. We weren't expecting it to go so badly –"

"How _did _it go so badly?" Hotch asked. JJ noticed with delight that Hotch hadn't given any of the rest of them a second glance – he was too busy watching Emily, searching her face for any indication of pain.

Morgan shrugged – winced at the pain it caused – and said simply, "Dude was big."

Emily hissed in pain suddenly; the baby kicked really hard just in the wrong spot.

"Are you okay?" Hotch asked her, eyes widening.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Is it possible to bruise from the inside?" she asked. Rhetorically.

"A bruise is just an injury in soft tissue due to breaking of capillaries and leaking of red blood cells, so it doesn't really matter which way the trauma occurs. Lots of expectant mothers report bruising–"

"—so that's a yes," Rossi said, pulling Emily carefully into a hug, trying not to push on her bruises. "You sure you're okay, gattina?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I've had worse."

"We all have," Reid agreed.

Hotch shook his head. "This many injuries in such a short amount of time –"

"We need to get it together," JJ agreed.

Reid, Rossi and Morgan went to call Garcia and tell her that everyone was okay. Hotch and Emily, followed by JJ and Blake, went into the break room.

Hotch and Emily went to the counter and started pouring coffees for everyone. They did it assembly-line style. Emily wrote all the names on the cups while Hotch started filling them.

"I miss you," Hotch whispered to her as they stood side by side, backs to their other team members.

"I miss you, too," Emily said back, her heart starting to thump. She tried not to let her facial expressions change. JJ was in the practice of scrutinizing her every move anytime she was anywhere near Hotch.

"Let's do something about it," Hotch whispered.

"Okay, like what?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

"JJ usually stays in Rossi's room when we've had a bad day," she whispered, dumping the creams into the coffees while Hotch did the sugars. "I'd say this was a pretty bad day."

"Yeah."

"I could come over by you," Emily suggested somewhat shyly. "Maybe just spend the night?"

"That sounds perfect. I'll see you then." He grabbed four of the coffees, and she grabbed the other three, and they walked out of the room.

JJ winked at her as she left.

"Are they together?" Blake whispered, leaning over the table.

"I don't know. But if they're not, they will be soon."

"Is your arm okay? Where's your sling?" Hotch asked when Emily showed up at his hotel room that night.

"It's fine, actually. It doesn't really hurt. The sling was stupid, it just guaranteed constant pressure on the bruises. I feel much better without it."

He looked worried. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine, see?" she asked, moving her arm around in a circle, and trying not to wince. Maybe it wasn't _totally _fine.

"That bad?"

"How –"

"Micro expressions," he said. "Need an aspirin?"

"Do you have Tylenol? I'm supposed to avoid aspirin."

"I can look," he said, but didn't move to dig through his toiletry bag. He was still searching her face.

"What?" she asked a little self-consciously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry."

Her eyebrows pinched together. "Why?"

"You got hurt. Again."

"Hotch, this is absolutely not your fault," Emily argued. "You have to stop blaming yourself for these things!"

"How can I? _My _decisions are causing it."

"Not today! Today you told us we _couldn't _go, and we did anyway."

"I told you you couldn't approach the dealer unless something went bad. I should've figured that _something _would go wrong –"

"No. If you assume something's going to go wrong, then you're not trusting us. And then we can't do our jobs." She sat down on the bed next to him, pulling one of his hands into hers. "And Aaron… you can't do this job on your own."

"I know. I just worry. What if something worse had happened to you? Or to the baby?"

Emily gave him a tiny smile and squeezed his hand. "I worry, too. I promise I'll be more careful from now on. No more risks."

"Good. Now, do you want to tell me what's up with Clyde?"

Ah, yes. That reminded her. "Do you want to tell _me _what's up with Clyde? He told me Garcia has been running searches on Doyle. What did you tell her?"

Hotch winced. "You weren't supposed to find out about that."

"Did you not think it was important for me to know that? Garcia has been acting _so _funny lately, and now I know why. What did you tell her?"

"Nothing really," Hotch assure her. "I promise. I just told her to watch out for his people, not him directly. I thought maybe we could track him through old allies. I made something up about Interpol asking us, said we needed to look through and see if there was anything in ViCAP about it, and if there were any new developments."

Emily looked really nervous, and a little bit betrayed.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I should've told you. She doesn't know anything about what happened, I promise."

"Okay," she whispered, squeezing his hand again. "It's okay. You're just trying to help."

"Yeah." He paused. "How did Clyde know about that, though?"

"He keeps tabs on _everything_," Emily replied carefully. "They just… His villa was just sold, the one in Tuscany. And it was sold to someone called 'Chuck Murray'. That's one of his aliases."

Hotch was worried now. "Do you think it's him?"

"Why would he buy that same house? It doesn't make sense."

"Think of what it would say about him," Hotch said, thinking of it like a case.

Emily bit her lip, nodding. "I will, but I don't want to think about it right now. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Do you want to go to bed? You must be tired."

"Yeah. Can we?"

"Of course."


	34. Chapter 34

Emily was sitting at the police department with JJ at the tiny table that the sheriff had designated for them. The two of them were waiting on a phone call from Garcia – not normally a two-person job, not usually even a one-person job (they'd do something else while waiting) but it seemed like once again, due to their injuries, they were not allowed to go do anything potentially dangerous.

The drug dealer that had damaged the BAU yesterday had been found dead that morning, which was definitely an interesting development. They were now speculating about a mob or cult or even a hitman, but it had been a while since anyone came up with any new angles. Reid was reading through a stack of case files with similar MOs that Garcia had sent to him. JJ was looking at a map of the area and sticking pins into each of the crime scenes and dump sites, adding little tags to each one to describe what it was. Emily was staring blankly at some photos of their newest grisly crime scene, slightly uneased by how little the mutilated corpse affected her.

"D'you think maybe..." JJ began, and Emily and Reid looked up at her hopefully – no lie, they were stuck on this case – but then she trailed off, shaking her head. "Never mind, I think we already discussed that."

Their shoulders slumped and they went back to their work. Emily selected another crime scene photo and felt a twinge of sadness when she realized how much the dead woman looked like Tsia Mosley, the woman who had been on JTF-12 with her. Who Doyle had killed.

Everyone else from that team was dead, and Emily wasn't. And Ian could've killed her – easily, he'd had a gun on her – and perhaps when he'd ran away that day he did believe he'd killed her – but either way, she was here now and they weren't. And she wondered if that was because he decided it would be that way, that he decided to let her live – or he decided to let her have a chance, anyway, even though it was pretty slim – because she hadn't hurt Declan. It wasn't like him to leave loose ends, and she considered herself to be a pretty damn big loose end. Yet he hadn't put that final bullet in her head to make sure the job was done.

Maybe a tiny part of him still loved her – just like the part of her that still loved him. She suspected (Lauren hoped) that that part of him still existed. When she'd gone into that interrogation room and he'd seen her for the first time alive, he'd looked at her with vague surprise and amazement in his eyes, and he'd seemed slightly impressed. He'd looked at her like she was his Lauren: his perfect, brave, strong, unbreakable Lauren. But there was a flicker of something else, too, something else that he quickly hid and something for which she could tell he had been upset with himself. Relief.

He was glad he hadn't really killed her.

Emily knew that this meant that he was hung up on her, too. And maybe that was why he wasn't making a move – he was trying to figure out if he could kill her without killing his Lauren, without killing a part of himself. And she was sitting here, breaking her oath to defend and protect by not turning him in. Because she couldn't turn him in, because who knows what would happen to him then – and if he got killed because of her... she didn't even know what she'd do.

She always knew they'd ruin each other.

When they had fought that day – she didn't remember too much of it, it'd all happened so fast and she'd been unconscious for several weeks afterwards – she did remember that she'd told him she'd beaten him. That she'd won.

But now she knew the truth. She hadn't won – she'd saved Declan, yes, but that was a battle, not the entire war. The war was far from over, and it wasn't likely to end in an armistice.

Emily remembered how desperate Ian had been to save Declan before he was born – he'd tied a woman to a bed for nine (seven, she corrected herself) months – and she wondered vaguely whether she wasn't metaphorically tied to a bed, too. Because it wasn't like Ian Doyle to hide in the shadows and watch her from afar, not unless he had something preventing him from confronting her and attacking her. And that something was most likely their baby. Because even if Ian did decide that he could kill Emily – if he believed Lauren Reynolds was dead, or if he believed she'd never existed in the first place – Emily knew he would never hurt his own child. Because really, he was a good dad.

God, the man was hard to hate.

Then again, she mused, the baby couldn't be the only reason he was leaving her alone. Because he'd obviously been watching her for a while before that. So what the hell was his problem?

She instinctively wanted to ask her team – whenever she got stuck profiling an unsub, when there was some sort of behavior she couldn't understand – her first thought was to bounce ideas off of one of them. But in this scenario that obviously wasn't her best option. Sure, she could talk to Hotch or JJ, but they wouldn't understand. They'd try, and they'd sympathize, and they'd come up with a few ideas – but Emily knew that they'd never understand the intricacies of her relationship with Doyle, and so they'd never fully understand the man's thinking and motives.

There were very few people who understood Ian. Herself and his business partner Liam, certainly. And maybe Declan. But maybe not. He was only five when Ian went to prison, and he knew almost nothing about his father's business – to Declan, Ian was just "dad". Not a terrorist, not a weapons dealer, not a high level member of the IRA, just his dad. Ian had never shown that darker side of himself around his son.

And honestly, Emily didn't really know that darker side, either. Sure, she knew of the darker side, but she'd very rarely seen it firsthand. He was always so good to her – to Lauren.

She supposed the person to talk to with the best objective knowledge of Ian would be Clyde – but she'd rather die than tell him about the fact that Ian was alive... And that he'd raped her, and she hadn't really done anything or told anyone about it. Or that she wasn't even sure if she was _mad_ about it. Emily (Lauren?) wasn't mad at Ian at all, actually. Not even for stalking her and coming after her the first time. If _she'd _found out that _Ian _had hidden Declan from her for five years, she would've stuck a table leg into his gut, too. And on top of that she'd played him for three years, pretending (not pretending) to be his lover while just gathering information that would eventually lead to his arrest, and subsequent torture in a North Korean prison – she 100% believed that she _deserved _to be impaled with a table leg.

And if she told Clyde that, he probably would kill her himself.

It certainly seemed like she was going to have to figure this one out on her own.

But then again, maybe not. Maybe she _could_ talk to Aaron about this. Every time she went to him with something, he was always so sweet and understanding – maybe even if he couldn't understand their relationship, maybe he could still offer her a new angle… He really was a great profiler, she thought, remembering how specific he'd gotten with the last one, and how impressed the police had been when they delivered it… God, he was sexy when he took charge of a room like that. A little smile crept onto her face as she remembered what he'd told her this morning, that he'd love if she stayed over in his hotel room more often…

"Okay, you are _way _too happy right now," JJ accused, interrupting her thoughts.

"I am not," Emily argued pointlessly – there was a stupid grin plastered on her face. She'd forgotten to compartmentalize. Oops.

"Spence!" JJ called to the genius, who was looking over the geographical profile.

He looked over.

"Have you ever seen her smiling like that? While she's supposed to be looking at crime scene photos?"

"No, never," Reid noticed, looking almost concerned. "Why _are _you so happy, anyway?"

"I'm not –"

"Emily, I need your help with something," Hotch said, poking his head into the room. "Can I borrow you for an hour or so?"

"Yeah," Emily said, jumping up to go, her face brightening even more. Hotch held the door for her, and they walked down the hallway out of sight together.

JJ looked at Reid, who was staring after them. He turned to look at JJ, who was wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Why are you doing that with your eyebrows?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose in disappointment. "Hotch and Emily…" she began, trying to get the 'genius' to catch on.

"Yeah, they're going to the morgue, right?" he asked, totally oblivious.

She sighed. "Yes, Reid. They're going to the morgue."

#

They managed to solve the case around 10, and Emily was knocking on Hotch's door by 11 that night. JJ had decided to stay with Dave again, allowing her to escape unnoticed.

Hotch answered the door and pulled her inside, locking the deadbolt behind her. Then he pulled her in for a nice, long kiss.

When their lips finally parted, their eyes crinkling as they beamed at each other, Hotch whispered, "Hi."

"Hi," she giggled, dropping her bag just inside the door.

"Are you hungry?"

"Sure," she said.

"Okay," he said. "I have to warn you, though, this crappy little hotel doesn't have room service."

"…Then what are we eating?"

"I bought spaghetti ingredients."

"How are we cooking it? We don't have a stove."

Hotch stared blankly ahead for a few seconds. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."

Emily laughed. "I'll see if I can google how to boil noodles in the microwave."

"Perfect. I'll try to start the sauce – I think we can heat it up in the microwave after we just mix the stuff together."

"Is that how that works?" Emily asked, amused.

"I guess we're going to find out."

#

Two hours later they were eating cereal out of plastic bowls. The microwave was in questionable shape – as in, they were questioning whether or not it would ever work again. It had flooded. When the noodles boiled over.

The sauce explosion hadn't helped, either.

But that was fine by Emily. She was perfectly happy to be sitting in Hotch's bed, wearing his old Quantico t-shirt (her pajama top had been destroyed when the sauce splattered everywhere) and leaning back against his chest. His arms were around her waist as they watched a late night run of _The Great Outdoors, _eating Lucky Charms.

"Did you ever camp as a kid?" Emily asked.

"Every summer," he replied. "I went to an actual summer camp for two months, and then my dad and uncle would take me and my three cousins backpacking once in a while. What about you?"

"Not really. My grandpa lived in the French Alps, like, _way _up. No electricity or running water or anything. He had a little shack he lived in, and some goats for milk and cheese. When I'd stay with him, I always slept in a tent. I guess that sort of counts."

Hotch nodded, considering. "But you never had wake up calls? Campfire songs? S'mores?"

"I get wake up calls often enough," she said bitterly. "No campfire songs. And s'mores are totally an American thing. I'd probably never even heard of them until I was in college."

"That's sad," he murmured into her hair.

"It is," she agreed.

They sat and watched the movie for a few more minutes.

"Ugh, now I can't stop thinking about s'mores. That sounds so good right now," Emily said longingly.

Hotch shut the TV off, and Emily looked at him quizzically.

"Let's go buy some marshmallows."

"Really?" she asked, a smile growing on her face.

"Sure. I saw a 24-hour Walmart not too far from here."

The smile slipped from her face. "What if someone sees?" she asked worriedly. He knew she meant the team – or anyone from the police department, really.

"They won't. And if they do… Well, worse things could happen. I'm willing to risk it if you are."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," she said, sitting up. "Let's go."

It felt wonderful to be strolling around the store with him, hand-in-hand, even if it was only for a few minutes in the middle of the night. She was starting to hope that they could do this for real – during the day, at home, without being afraid of running into the team.

They got back to the hotel at 3 AM and decided since they were making s'mores, it only made sense to "camp" too. This led to the construction of a very elaborate sheet fort between the two queen beds, complete, of course, with a floor of pillows.

They were both underneath the fort now, with a lamp that had the lampshade removed. Emily held a marshmallow up to the light bulb. It was actually fairly effective; it was softening.

"I think this is done," Emily said as the marshmallow started to burn her fingers.

Hotch, who apparently _enjoyed _putting together the graham cracker and chocolate part of the s'more (in Emily's opinion, this was the worst part), carefully held the two crackers up, taking the marshmallow between them. He pressed down on it, and it oozed over the sides perfectly. He offered the completed s'more to Emily.

"No way, you try it first," she laughed.

He did.

"Well?"

"Might be the best I've ever had," he said, eyes crinkling.

"Shut up," she said, assuming he was teasing. "Is it really that bad?"

"No, it's actually really good. It's not charred like the ones Jack always makes for me."

"Don't tell me camper-extraordinaire Aaron Hotchner raised a horrible marshmallow roaster –"

"He does it on purpose," Hotch said with a smile.

"He burns them? Why?"

"Well, we were camping a few years ago and he started crying because his marshmallow started on fire. I wanted to make him feel better, so I told him I like them like that. Now he does it intentionally, and I have to try to eat them without making a face."

Emily laughed. "You're sweet. But you know, I actually prefer the burnt ones."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

She elbowed him in the ribs. "Let me try it."

He held it up and she took a bite and chewed slowly, considering.

"Not bad, actually," she said, surprised.

Suddenly he leaned in and kissed her.

"What was that for?" she smiled.

"You had a little marshmallow on your lip. Don't worry, I got it."

"Well, thank you very much," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Maybe I should get marshmallow on my face more often."

"Maybe," he agreed and his dimples popped out as he gave her a little smile, watching her in adoration. She leaned forward to get another marshmallow out of the bag. "Hey, Emily?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Emily looked back at him, straightening up, her brown eyes wide, and her lips a little parted in surprise. "Really?" she asked softly.

"Really. I do."

A tiny smile grew on her face, and she pecked him on the lips. "I love you, too."


	35. Chapter 35

"No Hotch yet?" Rossi asked as he and JJ sat themselves down at the breakfast table with Morgan, Blake, and Reid. As always at the free continental breakfasts the hotels provided, JJ had a pastry, and everyone else just had coffee.

"Nope. Where's Prentiss?" Morgan asked JJ.

"I dunno," the blonde replied slowly, looking at her watch.

"She's not in your room?" Reid asked.

"I... wasn't in our room last night," JJ admitted with a sideways glance towards Dave.

"Oh, TMI," Morgan said, making a face.

"Shut up," JJ advised him jokingly.

"Maybe you should go check on her," Blake said. "She's usually the first one up."

"Oh, I think she's fine," JJ said casually.

Now _that _was strange. Usually she would be worried sick over anything unusual going on with her best friend.

"Are you two fighting?" Reid asked, brow furrowed.

JJ looked offended. "Me and Emily do not _fight_."

"Then why are you not concerned that Emily isn't –" Morgan began, but Rossi cut him off.

"Jennifer," he said, his eyes smirking.

"David," she replied, her eyes narrowing.

"You know something," Rossi accused.

"I do not."

It was quite obvious that no one believed her.

"I have an inkling," she admitted.

"Does that inkling have to do with Hotch?"

She mumbled something under her breath.

"What was that?" Rossi asked teasingly.

JJ pursed her lips. "The fifth," she said clearly. "I'm pleading the fifth."

"You don't _seriously_ think there's something going on between them –" Morgan said.

"You seriously _don't _think there's something going on between them?" Rossi asked, eyebrows up.

"Nah. That's against way too much protocol. Hotch would never go for it."

"I agree," said Reid. "Plus we haven't seen any real evidence. Why wouldn't they have told us yet?"

"Oh, yeah, cuz Hotch and Em just _love _telling us all about their personal lives," JJ said sarcastically.

"You have a point, but I'm still not convinced."

"Let's take a poll," Rossi suggested. "Who thinks no?"

Reid and Morgan.

"And who thinks yes?"

Only Rossi.

"Guys," he said to JJ and Blake, "This only works if everyone votes."

"I can't decide," said Blake. "I mean, there's potential, but..." she trailed off.

"Jayje?" Morgan asked.

"The fifth," JJ repeated stubbornly, getting up to toss her pastry in the trash. She always took one. They were never good.

"Fine, cara, be that way," Rossi called after her. "We'll know soon enough."

JJ froze. "What does that mean?"

"I may have asked Penelope to look into it," he said, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. He was quite pleased with himself.

JJ rolled her eyes. "She can't tell you about what she finds, though."

"What? Why not?"

"Confidentiality agreement in the Code," JJ smirked, planting a kiss on his cheek. "You sweet, naïve man."

He scowled. "Do you three think of everything?"

"Just about. Now let's get to that police station."

#

"I think they're all waiting for us in Morgan's room," Rossi was telling Hotch the next morning as they walked through the hotel lobby after finishing the last interview with their unsub. They'd closed the case themselves, letting the rest of the agents head back to start packing.

When they got to the room, they saw that the door was slightly open. Looking at one another, concerned, they both drew their guns. Rossi gently tapped the door, opening it just enough so that both men could see inside.

Rossi shook his head, chuckling, and Hotch smirked.

Their team was fine. Emily was lying on her back on the couch, her head propped up on a pillow that leaned on Reid's side, her legs draped lazily over Morgan's lap. JJ sat on the floor in front of the couch, leaning back on Morgan's legs. The four of them had their eyes glued to the television; they were watching some sort of true crime show.

"If Jill was telling the truth that she was protecting herself from her husband, then why did Paul's body have defensive wounds? And if the fight truly started in the kitchen, why did the blood spatter indicate that Paul, injured, had fled from the direction of the bedroom?"

Morgan shook his head in disappointment, and JJ rolled her eyes.

"Get your shit together, Jill," Emily muttered as Reid declared, "Jill's an idiot."

"Yeah, she's pretty stupid," Morgan agreed. "Although honestly, I don't know how else she could've played it off."

All three of them raised their eyebrows at this.

"Seriously?" Reid asked incredulously.

Morgan looked at all of them, surprised. "What, you all think you could murder somebody and get away with it?"

Reid nodded.

"Hell yeah," JJ replied.

"Where have you been all these years? We've had literally hundreds of examples of how not to get away with murder," Emily pointed out.

"Alright, then, smarty-pantses," he challenged them. "How would you all kill someone?"

"Depends who it is," Reid answered quickly.

"How would you kill Morgan?" JJ offered. "Hypothetically, of course," she answered, when he shot her a dirty look.

"Hmm," Reid considered, watching Morgan. "Nothing messy; I don't want to clean up. And I'm wearing gloves. I'd use a weapon of opportunity; that way they can't trace it to me. I don't bring anything with me. I'd probably blitz attack him while he's on his morning run through the park. No cameras, and not a lot of witnesses at 5 am."

"What do you do with the body?"

"Dissolve it with lye."

JJ raised her eyebrows, interested. "Not acid?"

"No, lye is much faster. And it's easier to get; they sell it by the gallon at Hobby Lobby and most farming supply stores. I'd buy it with cash, maybe on a case so it's far away from home. I'd heat it up and put his body in it, and he'd be tan liquid within a few hours. Pour him down the drain, and scrub the tub out. How about you, Emily?"

Morgan looked pretty freaked out.

Emily started, "I don't need to dispose of the body. I'll hit him with succinylcholine – one of those needles that's too tiny to make a mark, maybe a little injection between the toes. Muscles paralyzed, he can't breathe. Heart attack. And when they find him the next day, his body will have already metabolized the poison. Not a trace in the autopsy. He died of natural causes."

"Where would you get the succinylcholine?" Reid asked curiously.

Emily shrugged. "I have friends in the medical field. Maybe I'd take a little with me when I go to visit them at work. It doesn't take much. Could always buy it on the black market, too."

"You learn that injection-between-the-toes trick from Doyle?" Morgan asked cheekily, recalling when the Irishman had used that same method.

"Yep," she admitted casually, which actually surprised Morgan. He'd expected her to roll her eyes at him. "But he prefers potassium chloride. Easier to get, but easier to trace, too. How about you, Jayje?"

"Blitz attack like Reid. But I'm not hitting him too hard, cuz I don't want to deal with the blood. Maybe a baseball bat to the back, knock his spine out. They find his DNA in my car? Well, he's my friend. So yeah, that's not too hard to explain. I'd drive him out to the woods somewhere. Not a park or anything, just some random private property. A mile in, I'll –"

"You're gonna drag my dead body a mile through the woods?" he asked, eyeing her small frame.

"Well, not by myself," she said as though she'd been insulted. "Emily would help me, obviously."

Morgan looked over Emily, who was nodding along with JJ, trying to conceal her smile. "For sure."

"Then I'd bury you nice and deep. Put all the leaves and sticks back where they were. And then I'd go to a butcher a few towns over, and buy a whole deer – with cash. And I'd leave it right on top of your grave, so if the dogs come sniffing, search and rescue will see the rotting deer and assume that's why they're baying."

Morgan looked sort of nauseated. "You three have put a hell of a lot of thought into this."

"Not really," Reid said casually. "Just years of witnessing it."

"To catch a criminal, you have to think like one," JJ chimed.

Rossi cleared his throat in the door, causing the other four to jump, hands flying to their sidearms as they jumped to their feet.

"How long have you been standing there?" JJ asked her fiancé, startled.

"Long enough to be slightly more afraid of you three than I was ten minutes ago," Rossi replied. "Now come on, plane's leaving in twenty."

#

Emily was panicking.

She wasn't quite sure why, but she was. She was driving around mindlessly, trying to calm herself down. It was 6:30 PM on a Friday night and Declan was coming home in a few hours. She had to pick him up from his dance rehearsal at 8, and then Hotch and Jack were coming over for pizza and board games.

Actually, that's what it was. She was panicking _because_ Hotch and Jack were coming over. She loved them both, more than she'd ever thought possible, but having them over with Declan there too… Not that she thought anything would go wrong, but… Having their two families together, that just made it _so _real. And she'd spent the last eight years or so trying to avoid commitment.

It wasn't that she didn't _want _to be committed to Hotch – she actually really _did _want that. But the fact that she wanted it was what scared her. She hadn't had a real relationship since Doyle, and… if that didn't count as real, she'd _never _had a real relationship.

And so even though she felt like what she was doing with Hotch was right, she was nervous. Because bringing Declan and Jack into things meant that if something happened and their relationship went south, more than two people would get hurt. But she was already pretty damn attached to Jack, and she liked to think he was attached to her, too. And she wasn't going to shield Declan from her relationship with Hotch if he was letting Jack in on everything.

It just seemed fast. She'd only just moved back to America – well, two months ago, but still – and already she had a new son and a baby on the way, and now a new boyfriend and his own son. And even though these were good changes – really, _really good _changes – it was kind of scary.

Aaron and Declan and Jack were perfect, and she was really starting to fall in love with her baby, too – she wasn't sure when, but she'd stopped thinking about it as a monster's baby, and the idea of being a mom freaked her out less and less every day.

No, it wasn't that anything was wrong with the four of them. She was panicking because… she didn't know if _she_ was good enough.

Logically she knew that most of what Clyde had said on the phone – the first time – she knew that most of that was just him being an asshole. But… there was some truth to his words. She _was _terrified of commitment, and she did have a tendency to flip flop over the ocean when things got too cozy. She was flighty, capricious. She'd settle in and get comfortable. Then she'd wait long enough to _realize_ that she was comfortable, get paranoid that she was _too _comfortable (this generally meant she was going to lose something or someone), and then she'd quickly back out, trying to protect herself from getting hurt without realizing that she was just hurting herself.

She took a left at the next stoplight and noticed she was driving alongside a cemetery.

Wait a second – she _recognized_ this cemetery.

This was where Hayley was buried.

Chewing her thumbnail, she turned into the drive. It was a fairly large place; she drove in circles for a while before she found the right spot.

For a few minutes she sat in her car, just looking at the gravestone from a distance. It read HAYLEY BROOKS HOTCHNER, BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER. 07/16/1970 – 11/05/2009. There was a vase attached to the headstone, but it was empty.

Emily moved on to the next fingernail. She had the distinct feeling that she shouldn't be here – she was completely on edge, like someone was about to catch her in the act of doing something wrong. Her hair was nearly standing on end.

Emily put the car back into drive and found her way out of the cemetery, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. She needed to go home.

But twenty minutes later, she was back in front of that headstone with a bouquet of flowers. She convinced herself to get out of the car, and she approached the stone quietly, cautiously. She delicately placed the flowers into the vase and then stepped back, intending to leave.

Somehow she ended up sitting in the grass, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.

This woman – the one lying six feet under her – she had been so strong, so brave. And she had loved Jack _so _much, and Emily knew that even though they'd divorced, she and Hotch had still been deeply, deeply in love with each other. This was the woman who had spent nearly twenty years of her life married to Hotch, and then had literally died to protect their child.

How the hell was Emily supposed to live up to that?

She felt the baby moving around then, and tenderly placed her hand over the bump, which was growing more and more every day. And then in that moment, she finally recognized something: she would die for her children, too. She would die for Declan or the baby.

Or for Aaron, or Jack. Or JJ or Rossi or Reid or Morgan, or Penelope or Blake or Henry or the twins or Kendall. Even Savannah, Kevin, or Ashley.

She would do _literally _whatever it would take to make sure that her family was safe. She had put her life on the line for them before, it just had thankfully never come to the point where she'd actually died. Actually, no - come to think of it, she sort of _had _died for Declan - she'd flatlined in the ambulance after refusing to tell Ian where he was - she'd just been lucky enough that the paramedics had managed to bring her back.

If that wasn't commitment, what was?

"Thank you," Emily spoke suddenly, softly, staring at the grass. "For Jack… And for Aaron. You made them both who they are today. And… I know I probably don't deserve them, but… I'm going to take care of your boys," she whispered softly to the headstone. "That's a promise."

She sat for a few more minutes, thinking about how lucky she was to still be alive - to still feel the wind blowing lightly on her face, the warm sun shining down on her, the little baby moving around inside her.

Awhile later when she was trying to find her way out of the cemetery, she must've taken a wrong turn, because she found herself driving through an unfamiliar area. She was looking around, trying to find something she recognized, when another headstone caught her eye.

EMILY PRENTISS. OCT 12, 1970 – MAR 07, 2011. FIDELITY, BRAVERY, INTEGRITY.

She did a double take, her mind refusing to process what she'd read for a split second before the reality set in. This was where her team had mourned for her, buried her.

But apparently when she returned, none of them had thought to pull her grave out of the cemetery. Why would they?

What was buried there, anyway? A mannequin? An empty coffin?

She felt compelled to get out of the car again, and once again found herself sitting in the grass in front of the headstone. It, too, had an empty vase sitting in front of it. She wondered how long her team had bothered with maintaining the flowers.

Then she started sobbing. She'd held it together at Hayley's grave, but now, sitting here in front of _her own grave_ – it just seemed cruel. How much shit could happen to the same person? How many people on this planet had ever sat in front of their own graves?

She snorted through her tears as she thought that Reid would probably know the answer to that one. She remembered what her shrink had told her a few months after she'd returned from Paris: her team had lost a beloved friend, and they had mourned, but she lost something, too. She lost a piece of herself. And she'd never really been given the chance to grieve over it; she had always made sure that she was too busy overcompensating to actually give herself a second to think.

She wiped a tear away – somewhat aggressively – and wondered vaguely where Ian's grave was, if he even had one. And if he did, what the hell was buried there? How had the entirety of the United States law enforcement manage to let the body of an international terrorist slip through their fingers?

She shook her head, trying to clear those thoughts away. She needed to stop dwelling on him. On the whole situation. Maybe she should've stayed a little longer to contemplate everything – she knew she was once again denying herself the opportunity to sort through her situation – but the more she thought about it, the more likely it was that she'd start bawling. Because she was already getting pretty damn comfortable back in America, and she was starting to realize it. Which meant she was close to paranoia, and close to running away. And she didn't want to run away this time.

Emily got up quickly and brushed the grass off of her work pants. It was starting to get dark; she had to go pick Declan up. Listening to him chatter about dance class in Russian – he was trying to teach her to speak it; she wasn't very good – seemed a much more appealing prospect than sitting in a darkening cemetery by herself and crying.

She ran her fingers once over the engraving on the tombstone, which just made the funny sinking feeling in her stomach worse. The fingernails on her left hand were chewed down to nubs – it was definitely noticeable; she'd get comments from everyone on the team. But that couldn't be helped now.

She almost kicked the headstone on her way out but managed to resist the impulse, mostly because her phone had started ringing and Hotch's smiling face popped onto her screen.

"Hey," she said hoarsely into the phone before wincing and clearing her throat. Hopefully he hadn't realized she sounded like she'd been crying.

"Hi. What's wrong?"

So much for that. "Nothing's wrong, Aaron. Really."

"Okay," he replied, and she could tell by his tone that he definitely didn't believe her. "Where are you right now?"

"I'm, um… I'm just heading over to pick Declan up," she lied, sliding into her car.

"Okay. Are you still thinking around 8:30 for tonight?"

"Yeah." She drove past Hayley's grave again, and bit her lip. "Are you still sure you want to do this?"

He paused. "Yeah, I am," he said sincerely. "Why? Do you think we should wait longer?"

"No, it's not that –"

"You're not getting cold feet on me, are you?"

"No! No, I want to do this. I just wanted to make sure that _you _want to. I mean… this is a big deal."

"More so for you than for me," Hotch commented. "You and Jack have met dozens of times. I have nothing to worry about; I already know that you two get along great. Are you worried about how Declan will react to us?"

"No," she answered automatically. "Well… I don't know, maybe. I mean, Declan has always been the kind to just go with the flow, and he's so outgoing I don't anticipate any problems at all, but… I'm just… I'm scared. I _really _want this to work."

"I know, sweetheart," he replied, and Emily could hear his smile in his voice. "I want it to work, too. But don't be nervous, okay? Our boys have gotten along great in the past, and I know Declan just wants you to be happy. Worrying will just stress you out, and that's not good for the baby."

Emily took a deep breath. "I know. I'll try to stop."

"I'm glad. Do you want me to bring anything else later?"

"Nope, just you and that precious little boy of yours."

She heard him smile again. "Okay, I'll see you at 8:30?"

"Yeah – Aaron?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you." There – that was the first time she'd said it first.

Across the city, Hotch's eyes crinkled. "I love you, too, sweetheart."

They hung up just as Emily pulled up in front of Declan's school. She shot him a quick text to let him know that she was there, and then she flipped the mirror down and rubbed the smudged eyeliner off of her eyelid. She fiddled with the radio to try and kill some time – she was a few minutes early – and then she smiled and unlocked her car as she saw Declan bounding down the school steps with his weekend bag slung over his shoulder, two other boys around his age trailing behind him.

"Hi, Mom," he greeted her as he threw his bag into the back seat. "These are my friends Sam and Mikey. They wanted to meet you."

"Hi, boys," Emily smiled at them. "How are you?"

"Good," they both said politely.

Declan seemed to be in a hurry, because he slid into the passenger seat, ready to go. "Bye guys, see you on Monday!"

"Bye, Dec," Sam said, hoisting his own book bag higher up on his shoulder. "See ya!"

"Nice meeting you, Mrs. Doyle!" Mikey added politely as their car pulled away.

Emily cringed, anxiety flooding back into her. Declan winced a little bit as well.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I told Sam you're supposed to be called Agent Prentiss, but I forgot to tell Mikey."

"It's okay, hon," she assured him, trying not to let him see how much it had affected her. She decided to change the subject. "How was your science test today?"

"It was good. There was only one question I wasn't sure about, but I asked Eric after class, and he said he put the same thing that I did. Hannah and Allison did, too. So I think I got them all right."

"That's great!" she said, feeling quite proud.

"Yeah, it wasn't too hard. Did you eat dinner already? I didn't have time to grab anything before rehearsal today. I'm starving."

"Oh, um… No, I didn't eat yet, actually. Um, you remember Agent Hotchner, right?"

"Your boss that answers your phone while you're in the shower?" Declan asked teasingly.

Emily snorted. "Yeah, that's the one. Um, well, I invited him and his son Jack to come over and eat with us. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's okay," Declan confirmed. He hesitated a second before asking, "Are you and him together?"

"Um… Yeah, I think so." She felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders – that was the first time she'd actually admitted out loud to anyone that she and Hotch were seeing each other. She hadn't realized it before, but she was sort of starting to feel as though she was his dirty little secret. Like they were having some scandalous affair, sneaking around to be together at night and hiding from everyone during the day.

And she was really starting to dislike hiding.

"That's cool," Declan said idly, looking at his phone. "I'm glad."

"Really?" she asked softly before she could stop herself. She sounded awfully desperate.

"Yeah," her son replied. "He seemed nice when I met him, and I like Jack. It'll be fun to have a friend to hang out with at all of your FBI gatherings."

Emily smiled. This wasn't going to be a problem at all.


	36. Chapter 36

Tensions were high. There was a lot at stake – the winners got to choose the pizza toppings. Emily and Hotch were absolutely determined to win; neither liked pepperoni, which both of their boys were absolutely obsessed with. And they'd threatened to order _extra._

It was neck and neck; both teams were on the last square in a heated game of Pictionary. Emily and Declan were drawing next. Declan drew the card and glanced down at it. A tiny smile crossed his features, mischievous, and he slid the card to his mom.

Emily picked it up and looked at it. Her eyes widened. The word was _Triangle._

It was easy. Too easy.

She glanced up at Hotch, trying to convey this to him with her facial expressions, but then both of the boys started yelling, "No profiling each other! That's cheating!" for the billionth time since they'd started the game, and she quickly looked away from him, hiding her face behind her hands to emphasize her innocence. She started to giggle, and she heard Hotch laughing, too.

"Ready?" Jack asked.

They both nodded. Jack flipped the timer, and it took Emily about half a second to draw the triangle. She looked up at Hotch with wide eyes – he wasn't looking at her; he was still waiting for her to add more to the picture –

"House!" he shouted prematurely, anticipating that she'd add the square underneath and maybe a door and some windows.

"No!" she cried as Jack shouted, "Triangle!"

"Yes!" Declan shouted.

"We win! We win!" the boys cheered, embracing each other in their excitement.

Emily threw her head back, hands tangled in her hair as she gripped her head in disappointment. "Hotch, how could you?"

"I don't know, I thought there had to be more to it!" he defended himself, his eyes lighting up with amusement even though they'd lost.

"It was too easy," Emily whined, shaking her head.

She didn't even care that she had to eat pepperoni pizza; Hotch was here with her, laughing in her living room, and Jack and Declan were doubled over together, still hugging and goofing off as they bragged about their victory.

She felt giggles building up in her own chest and realized that for the first time in a long time, she was _really _happy.

Naturally, due to their extremely competitive natures, Hotch and Emily couldn't go down without a rematch. They ordered the pizza and got back to the game.

After all, _someone _had to choose the ice cream flavor.

The doorbell rang a few minutes into the game, and Emily glanced up at the clock.

"Huh, they're early," she commented, starting to get up off of the living room floor.

"What're you doing?" Hotch asked.

Her eyebrows knitted together. "Getting the pizza?"

"Sit down," he commanded her in his most bossy voice, the one he used at work. "I'll get it."

"Let me pay half –" she started to argue, but he cut her off.

"No."

"Aaron!" she protested playfully, grabbing her purse and chasing after him down the hallway, trying to beat him to the door. She was wearing socks, and because of the hardwood floors she managed to duck down and slide right under his elbow, skidding to a halt just in front of the door. She turned around, stuck her tongue out at him as she undid the chain and the deadbolt, and then she swung the door open –

– and froze.

Hotch couldn't see who was at the door, but he did see the smile slip off of his Emily's face, and the way that she instinctively straightened up while wrapping her arms protectively around her torso. She didn't grab for where her gun usually rested on her hip, which peaked his interest, but did nothing to dull the sinking feeling in his gut.

"Hi, Mother," Emily said quietly in a voice that Hotch didn't even recognize. He realized with a pang that she was afraid.

The door was partially blocking Emily's body, and the hand behind it was frantically waving him back into the living room. Hotch frowned. She didn't want her mom to know about them.

"What are you doing answering the door dressed like that? Aren't you supposed to know better, considering your occupation?" the tight voice of Elizabeth Prentiss asked through the door.

Emily winced. It's not like she was wearing lingerie or anything, but the boys had decided that their get-together should be a pajama party, so all she had on were a thick pair of socks, some short athletic shorts, and Hotch's old FBI Academy t-shirt, which she had officially kidnapped into her own wardrobe.

Her eyes widened a little bit as she realized that the t-shirt said Class of 1997 on it, not her Class of 2006. She carefully wrapped her arm to block the date, hoping her mother wouldn't notice that the shirt was way too big on her.

Or – holy shit, was the baby bump showing? She risked a glance downwards – it wasn't super obvious, but it wasn't exactly subtle either, and if her mother actually looked at her stomach, she'd definitely see it. At twenty-nine weeks, she was still smaller than most women at this point, and if she was lucky the oversized shirt would just big enough to camouflage everything.

"Ugh, Emily, at least answer your mother when she's speaking to you, honestly. Why didn't you tell me you were moving back to the States? I had to find out from an acquaintance; it was so humiliating. Are you going to invite me in, or just stand there gawking?" Elizabeth prattled rudely.

"Um, it's not really a good time right now –"

"Nonsense. You've been living here for three and a half months now; if you haven't made the time yet, you're not planning to. That's why I'm here now. Because I want answers."

Emily hesitated.

"Is this because of what I said to you about that man you were dating in London? Honestly, Emily, I didn't mean anything by it. Why do you have to hold such a grudge? I'm your _mother _for crying out loud. Let's have a conversation."

"I really don't think it's a good idea right now." Emily could sense that Hotch was still behind her. He was, actually, coming closer to the door. But he was being careful to stick to the side of the hallway that was out of sight. Quietly there for support if she needed it.

"Why? Emily Ann Prentiss, do you have someone in there with you?"

Emily started to panic like she would've if she were fifteen and her mom was asking that through her bedroom door. In that moment it completely escaped her that she was forty-four and it was her own damn apartment, she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

"No –" she began, but she was cut off from somebody inside her apartment. Declan.

"Mom, what's taking so long?" the boy called from the living room. "We're hungry!"

Emily froze. So did her mother.

"Mom?" Declan asked again. "Are you okay?"

Emily looked afraid as she stared into her mother's confused face, but then her gaze flitted away from Elizabeth's and she turned back to call over her shoulder, "Yeah, Dec. Everything's fine."

"Dec?" Elizabeth echoed.

"Declan," Emily whispered. "He's my… My son."

"You have a son," the older woman repeated slowly.

"Um, yeah. He's – I mean, he's adopted, but… yeah. Um, Declan, can you come here for a minute?"

The boy padded quietly to the door and looked surprised to see Elizabeth standing there.

"I'm guessing you're not the pizza man," he joked with a charming smile, which Elizabeth didn't return.

"This is Declan," Emily introduced him, her hands on his shoulders. "Um, Dec, this is my mother, Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss."

"Wow, it's so nice to meet you," Declan greeted her, stretching his arm out for a handshake. This even stuck-up Elizabeth couldn't ignore, and she hesitantly reached out to shake his hand.

Declan seemed to sense the tension, but only Emily knew how badly this was actually going – the top left corner of her mother's lip was twitching.

"Emily, could I speak to you for a moment? _Alone?"_

"Um, yeah," Emily answered as one of her fingernails found its way between her teeth yet again.

"Stop that," Elizabeth scolded her. "That's a disgusting habit. You're a grown woman, stop behaving like a child."

Declan's eyebrows shot up in anger and he opened his mouth as though he was about to tell his 'grandmother' off. Before he could, Emily said quickly, "It's fine, Declan. Can you go back in the living room?"

She knew her son was trying to protect her, which was really sweet, but she didn't want Declan anywhere near her mother. Although the ambassador had never been physically violent towards her daughter, Emily had suffered through enough emotional abuse to last a lifetime.

"Okay," Declan agreed cautiously.

Before he was even out of earshot, Elizabeth started, "You adopted a _child _and you had the audacity not to tell me? Did you really think I wouldn't find out? What the _hell _is your problem, Emily? Imagine if someone knew and mentioned it to me, and I wasn't even aware! I'd look like a complete idiot –"

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you," Emily said, forcing herself to speak evenly, trying not to get hysterical. "You always have to make it about you –"

"–How am I making this about me?"

"You're accusing me of not telling you not because you actually _care, _but because it might've made you look bad that you didn't know! Seriously, Mother, how can you possibly think that there's nothing wrong with that –" Emily asked, her hands flying around like they always did when she got really worked up.

Elizabeth didn't reply. She was… staring at Emily's baby bump. Which was now in plain sight, as Emily's hands were no longer shielding it from her mother's piercing gaze.

She felt the blood drain from her face as her arms returned to their protective position. But it was too late. There was a good three seconds of silence, during which Emily realized that she was legitimately in immediate danger of being disowned.

That thought didn't really bother her as much as she felt it should've.

"Are you pregnant?" Elizabeth demanded.

Emily took a deep breath. "Yeah. I am."

She was holding her breath because she'd expected the shouting to start then, but it didn't. The eerie calm seemed to have decided to linger for another moment.

"And the father?"

Hotch – who was still standing just inside the living room doorframe, protectively hovering so that he could intervene if necessary – saw a flicker of deep, deep pain in Emily's eyes, before she set her jaw in a determined manner.

"He's not in the picture."

_There _was the shouting.

"What the _hell_, Emily? How could you _possibly_ be so careless? Adopting a child is one thing, but having the impudence to actually whore around to the point where you get knocked up, and then you _keep _it? How _embarrassing _–"

"Mother, stop! I'm an adult, I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions, and I don't need you criticizing me like I'm–"

"Yes, because this situation completely screams 'responsibility'! Emily, you should have _known _better than this. How could you be so stupid?"

Tears were welling up in Emily's eyes now. As much as she resented her mother for the way she'd been treated her whole life… she was still her mother. And somewhere deep inside her was the little girl she had once been, the child who was absolutely desperate to do _anything _to get her mother's approval, and her attention. Elizabeth's words stung now more than ever.

"Don't you dare start crying," her mother scolded. "You just got done telling me you're an adult; maybe it's time you start acting like one –"

Hotch pulled the front door the rest of the way open then, making himself perfectly visible to Emily's mother.

"Ambassador," he greeted her coldly through a clenched jaw. Emily looked at him with panicked eyes; she hadn't wanted her mother to know that he was there, it would only make things worse. What was he doing?

"Agent Hotchner," Elizabeth replied venomously. "What are you doing here?"

Neither of them answered, but it didn't take a profiler to read Hotch's overly protective posture. Elizabeth's assumptions were confirmed when Hotch reached forward to grab Emily's hand. He wasn't trying to aggravate the woman, but he'd never seen Emily looking so tiny and vulnerable, and he felt like he needed to anchor her down to keep her from blowing away.

Elizabeth ignored Hotch completely, and turned her glare back to her daughter. "_And_ you're screwing your boss? Just when I thought you couldn't let me down more. I don't recall raising you to be a _slut_."

"You didn't _raise_ me at all," Emily cried defensively, "That was the nannies and the butlers –"

"You're pathetic."

"Get out," Hotch said in a dangerously calm voice.

"_Excuse _me?"

"I said get out," he repeated.

"How _dare_ you?" she huffed. "This is between me and my daughter –"

"No, it isn't. This is Emily's business, not yours. It has nothing to do with you. Now I suggest you get the hell out, or I'll have to make you."

"Are you _threatening _me, Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I am," he replied harshly.

"Do I seem like the type of woman that responds to threats?"

"You seem like the type of woman that wouldn't want her face splashed across the front page of the paper under the headline 'US Ambassador arrested by FBI for trespassing and disorderly conduct'."

Elizabeth's mouth opened and shut several times as she tried to think of a response. "Emily, tell him that he has no authority to –"

"Just _go away_, Mother," Emily begged.

"If you send me away now, Emily, I am done with you," Elizabeth threatened.

"Good!" Emily cried, although she didn't know if she really meant it.

"You are _such_ a disappointment."

Emily looked like she'd been slapped.

Hotch slammed the front door and locked the deadbolt and the chain right in the ambassador's face. Then he turned to Emily – and she immediately fell into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered into her hair, gently rubbing her back as he held her against him. "It's okay, sweetheart. Nothing that she said is true, okay?"

He knew he had to maintain a calm exterior in order to comfort Emily, but inside he was absolutely livid. How dare that woman talk to his precious, sweet Emily like she was a piece of trash? How could anyone say things like that to their own child?

Especially considering that the woman had _no idea _what she was talking about. She'd accused Emily of whoring around – last time he checked, Emily had been with Mark for over a year before she left London. Not only that, but her child was not a result of 'sluttiness' by any means: a man had broken into her home and violated her, and she'd had the grace and strength to love the baby anyways.

How the hell had a nasty piece of work like Elizabeth Prentiss manage to raise a loving, generous, kind-hearted woman like his Emily?

"Mom, are you okay?" Declan asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he came back into the foyer with Jack on his heels.

"Yeah – I'm fine," Emily lied, her voice cracking a little bit. But the kids weren't stupid; they could see the tears forming in her eyes. She was still in Hotch's arms, and although they hadn't planned on any physical displays of affection in front of their kids tonight, Emily had absolutely no intention of pulling out of his embrace any time soon. He apparently shared the thought; his hands continued to gently rub up and down her back.

Declan wrapped his arms around Emily then too, and soon Jack joined him. And she was wrapped in a tight group hug. She laughed a little through the tears, and hugged Declan and Jack against her, ruffling their hair. Sweet kids.

"Your mom is mean," Jack commented.

Declan nodded in agreement.

"Jack –" Hotch said warningly.

"Yeah, she is," Emily agreed, angrily wiping a tear away before it could get even close to falling.

She'd never cried in front of Declan before and she damn well wasn't going to start now – and that went for Jack, too. _Prentisses don't cry, _she heard her mom's voice in her head, and was immediately angry at herself – even now, Elizabeth was getting to her.

"I'm sorry you boys had to hear all of that," she apologized to them, praying Hotch wasn't mad at her for fighting in front of his son.

"It's okay, Emily," Jack reassured her. "It's not your fault."

There was another knock at the door then, and Emily flinched. Hotch looked through the peephole before answering this time.

"It's the pizza," he said, relieved. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.

"Can we watch a movie while we eat it?" Declan asked, correctly assuming that none of them were really in the mood to play board games anymore.

"I think that'd be okay," Hotch said, noticing the tears welling up in Emily's eyes despite how hard she was fighting them. They had to talk about this sooner rather than later. "Why don't you and Jack go pick one out and get it started? Me and your mom are gonna go talk for a few minutes."

Emily looked up at him in surprise._ Talking _about it? Did he really think she needed to talk about it? She didn't want to talk about it – talking means crying, and she's already done way too much of that in front of him.

_Prentisses don't cry. _

The boys took the pizza box and headed back to the living room, and Emily started to follow them, but Hotch caught her wrist.

He looked down at her, his gaze gentle but concerned, and she knew she wasn't getting out of this. They were going to talk.

"Honey," he said simply, reading all of this in her facial expressions.

He followed Emily into her kitchen, but neither of them actually sat down. Her hand was still in his, and he gently ran his thumb back and forth across her knuckles.

"Emily," he began uncertainly. "Sweetheart… I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault my mother's a bitch," Emily said, her voice thick with tears.

She pressed her face into his collarbone, and he embraced her, gently rubbing her back and arms. Her body shook a little as she continued to fight back the tears – her pregnancy hormones weren't helping that particular battle.

"It's okay to cry," he whispered, and was startled when this caused her to stiffen.

The memory flooded into her mind, uninvited.

_They were in Ireland and a weapons deal had ended badly to put it mildly – fist fights, a shoot-out, a fucking car chase… It was rough. _

_Emily was in Ian's arms in the back seat of the second car, and they were on their way to the hospital – Emily's leg was _definitely _broken, as evidenced by the hundreds of shades of black and blue, and the fact that the bone was sticking out at a weird angle, as though it were attempting to poke through her skin. _

_She was whimpering, gritting her teeth in pain, breathing shallowly, and _clinging_ to Ian. _

_"__It's okay to cry, love," he'd whispered, cradling her as carefully as he could, trying not to move her or to cause her any more pain. _

_But she hadn't, not even then, not even when she was scared for her life with a splintered bone threatening to tear through her leg. _

_"__You're so strong, Lauren," he'd said, looking at her like she was indestructible. "I love you." _

_"__I love you," she'd choked. _

"Emily," Hotch's voice pulled her back to reality, and once again the sound of her real name clanged in her ears like it always did when she started to slip back into Lauren.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. What the hell was wrong with her? She had no idea how she'd managed to keep from crying when she could barely control her thoughts – and if she was thinking of Ian while in Hotch's arms… "Maybe you should go," she whispered into his shirt collar.

She felt him shift, tilting his head to look down at her.

"Do you want us to?" he asked sincerely. He'd do it if she really meant it.

"No," she breathed, not looking up. "But I think maybe it'd be f-for the best."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm a fucking basket case, Aaron," she whispered, a big tear spilling over and trailing down her cheek. It seeped into his t-shirt. "I have so much shit to deal with right now, and I don't know how – I think I've cried more in the past six months than I did in my entire life up to then. I just… I don't know how to cope with all of this, and you and Jack, you don't deserve to get tangled up in all of it. It isn't fair to you."

"Emily, look at me," he said once he was certain she was finished. Her eyes, filled with tears and the fear that he would actually leave her, met his hesitantly. "You're not a basket case," he said, gently hugging her against him. "I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but I think you're doing an excellent job with Declan and with the baby. And Jack and I love you. So we aren't going anywhere just because you don't think you deserve us, understand?" he asked sternly.

She sniffled, nodding, and he kissed her tenderly on the forehead. This was less about her actual conflict with her mother, he realized, and more about the things that her mother had said to her. Emily was tough, but she was somewhat sensitive, and she took the things that people said about her to heart, especially when they had to do with the things that she was already insecure about.

He held her for another minute and then, just when he thought it was over, he felt another big sob rock through her body, and another hot tear seeped through his shirt.

Emily was remembering what she'd already been worried about earlier today at Hayley's grave – how the hell was she supposed to live up to that?

"Baby, tell me what's wrong," Hotch encouraged her gently.

"I don't know how to be a mom," she whispered, vulnerable and ashamed. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking taking Declan in – I love him to death, but I honestly just… I'm afraid. He's relying on me and he's looking up to me and I don't know what I'm doing. And now, with the baby on the way, I just… I don't know."

"I'll let you in on a secret, since you're new to this whole parenting thing," he said, his eyes crinkling. "The rest of us… we don't know what we're doing, either. This job is strictly fake-it-til-you-make-it, and hope that your kid doesn't turn out to be a serial killer."

Emily flinched. Her kids were probably _genetically predisposed _to becoming serial killers. She laid her hand on her baby bump and felt the knot of scars.

"Declan has been through so much," she whispered. "I just want to do the best that I can for him. And for Bean."

"That's what all parents want," he agreed, and his heart broke a little when he saw her looking over towards her front door, where her mother just got done screaming at her and belittling her.

"Some parents… they think they know what's best, but they're wrong," Emily said firmly, looking up at him. "I don't want to end up like that. With my kid hating me."

"You won't," he said confidently. "I may not know your mother well, but I think it's safe to say that you and her are polar opposites. I've already seen you listening to Declan's thoughts and opinions like he's an adult – you've done it with Jack, too. And even Henry. The difference between you and your mother is that she always treated you like an extension of herself – a possession," he mused, not caring that he was openly profiling the ambassador. "So when you make your own decisions, it angers her. You're not like that with them," Hotch said with a nod towards the living room. "You know they're their own people, and you love them for it. And that makes all the difference."

"Is that good enough?" she whispered.

"What more could there be?"

She bit her lip and picked her fingernails. "I've been thinking about Hayley," she admitted so quietly she wasn't even completely sure she'd said it out loud.

Hotch stiffened, and for a moment she's afraid she shouldn't've said anything. "Emily –"

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. She wasn't sure what the apology was for, but it seemed appropriate.

"It's okay," he reassured her just as fast. "But… you shouldn't compare yourself to her."

"How can I not?" Emily asked, tears spilling over again. "What – what she did, how could I ever possibly live up to that?"

"You don't have to," he said, touching her cheek. "Sweetheart, I love you because you're _you. _It isn't a competition. You and Hayley are different," he acknowledged. "But that's a good thing, because she and I didn't work out so well. But I'm not trying to replace her. And Jack and I have already had that discussion, so don't worry about him, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed softly, beginning to tire. Crying was exhausting.

"How about I run you a bath," he suggested gently, sensing that the worst of it was over. "And then we can go watch something with the boys?"

She nodded and allowed him to prepare the bath for her, and while she soaked for a while and took extra care to make sure the mascara was washed off of her cheeks, he waited for her in the kitchen, making them all popcorn and hot chocolate. He was worried about her still and wanted to go check on her, but they weren't at that level in their relationship quite yet.

It was strange how serious they were emotionally despite the fact that they hadn't been intimate. It wasn't like they were purposefully waiting for any reason – Hotch certainly wasn't opposed to having sex with Emily, and he was pretty certain she felt the same way about him – they just hadn't gotten there yet. It seemed right though, to go slow on that front, especially considering the forceful conception of her child, and the fact that with their jobs, they could definitely get in trouble for having this relationship. Not only that, but they both had a lot of other baggage – Hayley and Doyle, Jack and Declan, Foyet, and a million other things and the scars that came with them. They would get there when they got there, but for now he would be happy with gentle kisses and comforting embraces, and the occasional night spent in each other's arms.

Emily exited the bathroom and found him in her kitchen. He smiled at her: she looked a bit happier now, beautiful even without any make up on, with her dark, wet strands of hair starting to curl up a bit around her face. He folded her into his arms and she was soft and clean and her hair smelled like green apples – his favorite candy flavor.

God, he loved her.

They rejoined their boys, who had just finished watching _Night at the Museum, _and the four of them together watched _Jurassic Park 2. _Declan and Jack sat on the two armchairs, and Emily and Hotch shared the loveseat, unabashedly pressed together. Their boys didn't seem to have much of a reaction to their physical contact, and Emily was still shaking a little bit – her mother had really shattered her confidence – so Hotch had pulled her against his side and wrapped an arm around her. He rested his hand absentmindedly over her baby bump, and she thought nothing of it. It seemed like that's where his hand belonged.

After the movie, they all stayed where they were on the couches for a minute or two, watching the credits scroll by and realizing it was getting late; their get-together was coming to an end.

"I wish we didn't have to go," Jack said, breaking the silence.

"Me too," said Declan.

"Dad, can we sleep over?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Yeah!" Declan exclaimed. "Can they, Mom? Please?"

Emily looked at Hotch. He seemed a little conflicted about it; probably he was wondering if it was appropriate for them to spend the night together with the kids there. But really, it wasn't like he and Emily were doing anything inappropriate, and they'd spent nights before just sleeping together in the most innocent meaning of the phrase.

"Aaron?" Emily asked, making it his decision. He realized her eyes were still puffy from crying.

Maybe being held against his chest tonight was exactly what she needed.

"Okay," he agreed.

An hour or so later, all four of them were lying on the living room floor in a big fort – it turned out that Hotch had quite the affinity for fort-building.

Emily and Hotch were asleep, their legs tangled together under the blanket that they shared, with Sergio curled in a ball next to Emily's head. They slept on top of a big pile of all the pillows and blankets Emily had in the apartment – a perfect, soft little nest instead of sleeping right on the carpet, because she was getting bigger now and Hotch was worried about her hurting her back.

Declan and Jack were still awake, whispering and giggling with each other like they were the best of friends. They'd heard their parents whispering "I love you" to each other right before they fell asleep, and both boys were over the moon excited about that revelation.

"Are they _really _dating?" Jack whispered excitedly.

"I think so," Declan answered. "I think they really really love each other. They seem so happy!"

Jack nodded.

Unlike most children, Jack and Declan had no resentment towards their parent's new partners – death had made it impossible for either of them to dream of their original parents getting back together. But they did both crave that idea of having a "complete" family, with two parents and their kids. And they were probably getting their hopes up rather quickly, but it was starting to look like that might be an option for them.

"Do you think your mom _really _likes my dad?" Jack asked, a little worried. His dad had been pretty sad when Beth moved away, even though he tried not to show it.

"I think so," Declan said slowly. He didn't really have any knowledge of what Emily was like when she was falling in love with someone, and he had been pretty little when she was with his dad, but he seemed to remember her acting a lot like this. Like she was happy, and comfortable.

Declan's face suddenly lit up. "I know how to tell for _sure _if they're falling in love."

Jack smiled mischievously. "Text Aunt Penelope?"

"Text Aunt Penelope," Declan confirmed.


	37. Chapter 37

They all woke up at exactly 9 AM the next morning due to the ringing of Emily's cell phone. She groaned and rolled over, reaching over Hotch to grab it.

**Incoming Call: ****_The Oracle of Quantico_**

"D'you guys have a case?" Declan mumbled tiredly.

"Probably," Emily said regretfully. She answered the phone. "Hey, PG. Where to now?"

"Good morning, Gumdrop," Garcia greeted her in a voice that was way too excited for this hour on a Saturday. "To JJ and Rossi's for a spontaneous gathering this afternoon? We haven't had a get-together with the whole family in _ages_."

"Really? No case?"

"Nope! Just some good old fashioned family time. Can you make it? You have Declan for the weekend, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. We'll be there. What time?"

"JJ said one. Tell Hotch and Jack."

"Okay," Emily mumbled, still half asleep. They hung up. She turned to Hotch. "Everyone is heading to Rossi and JJ's later. Garcia wanted me to tell you and Ja – why would she ask _me _to tell you? Oh my God, did she find out that we're... "

Declan and Jack looked a little guilty, but their parents weren't watching them.

"I'm sure she doesn't know," Hotch reasoned. "She probably just meant you should call me."

"Yeah," Emily agreed slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

But Hotch was wrong. Garcia knew exactly what was going on. Declan and Jack had texted her last night, both asking about Emily's love life. Even though they'd texted at around 2 AM, Garcia had gotten up – she woke Kevin in the process – and went out into the hallway to call JJ. JJ answered, groaning about cases popping up in the middle of the night. When Garcia said she wasn't calling about a case, she heard JJ telling Rossi to go back to bed, and then JJ asked her what was so important that it couldn't wait until 9 AM, which was considered the reasonable time to call someone in the morning, according to the Code.

"I think Emily and Hotch are together," Garcia had told her in a hushed, excited voice.

"Okay, same. But why now? Did Emily say something to you?"

"She would never. But... Declan and Jack might. And I mean I think they're _together _together. Like, right now. Sleepover style."

That piqued JJ's interest. "What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you more tomorrow. Big party at your place?"

"Sure," JJ had agreed eagerly. Anything to find out if there was anything going on between her team members. She'd been trying to set those two up for years.

"Okay, so here's what I was thinking…"

Now that the two of them were plotting, it was only a matter of time.

#

Emily pulled into the cabin/mansion's driveway at 1:23 pm. She and Declan had been running late, and she'd expected to get some teasing about it – but to her surprise, there were only three cars there so far. JJ's Mazda, Rossi's BMW, and Hotch's Camri.

She narrowed her eyes. This was suspicious.

Would JJ and Garcia _really _plot to get her and Hotch together, in a casual setting where they could easily be observed, by inviting them to the party an hour before everyone else would arrive?

Yes. They absolutely would.

Declan decided to stay outside with Jack and Henry, who were playing soccer in the front yard. Emily let herself in the front door – she used to knock when going to Rossi's, but now that JJ lived there, it seemed way too formal.

Mudgie, Chance and Bachelor were the only ones to greet her as she entered. She patted each of them in turn and shrugged off her sweater.

"Hello?" she called, venturing farther into the house.

"Hey," she heard Hotch call from the living room.

Emily went in and found him sitting on the loveseat holding both of the now three-and-a-half month old twins on his lap. He bounced them up and down on his knees, and they were both giggling.

Emily smiled and bit her lip, resting a hand on her baby bump.

Hotch looked _extremely _sexy playing with those babies – she found herself even more attracted to him than usual as she imagined him bouncing _her _baby on his knee.

"Hi, boys!" she cooed to her best friend's sons as she sank onto the couch next to Hotch. She held out her arms. "Can I?"

"Yeah, of course."

Emily took the baby on the right from Hotch, and carefully looked him over. Then she looked at his twin… Yeah, no idea.

"Which –" she began.

"That's Alex," he told her with a tiny smile. "If you watch them, you can see that their personalities are already a little different. Alex makes a lot more noise, and Luke smiles way more often. When Alex does smile, he looks way more like Dave, and Luke is all JJ."

Bouncing Alex on her knee, Emily looked at Hotch and asked, "Do you think the fact that we're the only ones here right now is a coincidence?"

"Not a chance," he replied certainly. "They're trying to feel us out. Either that, or they have no idea, and they're both trying to play matchmaker. Which is definitely a realistic possibility."

"Where are they, anyway?"

"JJ said she had to finish cleaning –"

"I'm supposed to believe _JJ _is _cleaning_?" Emily scoffed. JJ never cleaned. She liked to live in an organized(?) mess. Rossi, on the other hand, needed everything to be perfectly orderly. Their relationship worked out in that JJ never had to clean because Rossi did it before she even got the chance.

Hotch nodded, his eyes crinkling. "I didn't buy it, either. And I haven't seen Dave. They're both probably hiding somewhere, waiting for us to say something revealing."

"How do you want to play this?" she asked quietly.

He hesitated. "I don't know if I want to tell yet."

"Me neither," Emily said, relieved. "I mean, I'm not like embarrassed or anything, and I know they'd – well, JJ and Dave at least, they'd be supportive, but –"

"—It's nice that it's just us right now. I would like more time for us and the boys to get used to things before we let everyone else know."

"That's exactly what I was thinking. I told Declan not to say anything."

"And I told Jack. But I don't know how long eight and eleven year olds can keep a secret."

"Well, if they find out, they find out. But let's not tell them."

Suddenly there was a little creak from the floor in the hallway. Emily's eyes snapped up to meet Hotch's.

"JJ?" she mouthed. He nodded.

"So," Emily said loudly, attempting to fake small talk. "The weather has been great lately. What is it, like 22 out there?"

Hotch looked at her funny, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "I still think Fahrenheit is stupid. 72?"

"I heard 77, actually," he replied, his voice barely concealing his smile.

"Oh, wow. That's pretty warm for this time of the year."

"Mhm."

They sat there laughing silently for a good fifteen seconds, trying to regain their composure and hoping their friends would mistake it for an awkward silence. Faking small talk wasn't _actually _this fun – they just liked messing around together.

"So… do you have a lot of… Paperwork?" Emily asked him.

"Well, you know. Paperwork."

"Yeah," she smiled.

Another pause, and then Hotch said, "I like that clock."

Emily almost lost it. There was about ten seconds of silence as she bit hard on her lip to keep from laughing.

"Yeah," she said finally. "It's a good one. Is that colonial?"

"Could be."

Another pause.

"Have you seen any movies lately?" she asked him.

"No. You?"

"Nope."

"How's your… cat?"

"Oh, he's good. I started him on this new diet last week."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. His old food was making him crazy. They changed the ingredients for some reason and it made him super energetic. He scratched all the furniture up. I had to get a new mattress."

"Oh, no. The old one was beyond repair?"

"Yeah. It was totally destroyed."

"That's a bummer. I liked that one."

"Me, too. The new one isn't as good."

JJ, who _was _eavesdropping from the hallway, couldn't believe her ears. The implication hit her like a freight train and her jaw almost hit the floor. _Hotch _had been on Emily's _mattress_?! She turned to where Garcia usually stood on her left, but to her dismay, the technical analyst hadn't yet arrived.

She couldn't resist peeking into the room – and when she did, she saw both Hotch and Emily looking flustered as they realized they'd said too much.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Hotch said under his breath.

"Not your fault," Emily replied just as quietly. "Do you think they heard?"

"I don't know…"

The doorbell rang just then, and all three of them – Hotch, Emily, and JJ – jumped up to answer it. JJ tried to play it casual when they found her right outside of the living room door.

"Honestly, Derek, you don't need to ring the doorbell like we're some sort of tax collectors or Jehovah's witnesses – Hi Gumdrop!" Garcia squealed as she rounded the corner and saw Emily. "Hello, hello," she greeted Hotch and JJ. "I brought gifts for all the kiddos!" she added upon spotting the twins in Hotch's and Emily's arms.

Morgan came in behind her, carrying not only Kendall and some sort of dish for dinner, but also half a dozen gift bags and Garcia's purse. Garcia carried nothing.

"What do I keep telling you about all the gifts?" JJ scolded Garcia as she took Kendall from Morgan.

"I am the fairy godmother!" Garcia yelled defiantly.

She and JJ disappeared mysteriously for a while, taking Kendall with them and leaving Emily with all of the boys – Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, Alex, and Luke, along with Henry, Jack, and Declan, who had followed Reid inside because he brought a gallon of chocolate milk.

Emily still had Alex in her arms, and Hotch still had Luke, and Henry was trailing around after his "Uncle Spence". When Alex suddenly started screeching and flailing his limbs around, Emily quickly passed him off to Hotch, rubbing the spot on her baby bump where Alex had kicked her.

"You okay?" Hotch asked, his eyes full of concern, now holding both of the twins again.

"Yeah, it's fine. He didn't kick me that hard."

Henry looked up at them then and said innocently, "Alex is the evil twin."

"Henry, don't say that about your brother –" Rossi started to scold him, but the little boy's 'cool uncles' interrupted him.

Reid's eyebrows shot up. "Is he the evil twin, or the eviler twin?"

"Here we go again," Morgan muttered.

"Eviler twin," Henry specified.

"Oh – Henry," Emily said, shaking her head. "Honey, your brothers aren't evil – and Reid, seriously, you're still on that after what, six years?"

"It's only been five months," Reid said, frowning.

"Five mon– you were talking about that when we were working the Angel Maker case! That was _not _five months ago –"

"Oh, that's not what I was referring to. I was talking about Wallace Hines and Jesse Gentry."

Emily's brow furrowed. "Okay, fill me in. I don't think I was around for that one."

"Well they were a set of twins separated early in childhood. Wallace started killing as a result of a psychotic break – he killed his stressor first and then kept her body around long enough to feed parts of her head to the rest of his victims – torture with forced cannibalism. It was based on the mating ritual of the praying mantis. Anyway, eventually his twin brother Jesse found out about him and came to the city, and JJ and Morgan arrested Jesse instead of Wallace, and then we had to let him go but we still couldn't find Wallace, and then they started killing women together –"

"Okay, Reid, little ears!" Garcia yelled at him as she reentered the room with JJ. Morgan's hands were already blocking Henry's ears, but Declan and Jack were starting to pay attention now and they both looked mildly concerned.

"That is _fucked _up," Emily said slowly, eyes wide and her eyebrows pushed together.

"_Little ears, Emily Ann!_" Garcia shouted. "Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap?"

"Sorry!" Emily cried, slapping her hand over her mouth. She still wasn't used to having kids around all the time.

Emily never figured out what JJ and Garcia had snuck away to discuss, but for the rest of the night they exchanged suggestive eyebrow wiggles every time Emily so much as _looked _at Hotch.

Which was actually pretty often.

Soon Blake, Kevin, and Savannah arrived, and the whole family was there, minus Seaver, who was on a case, and James Blake, who was teaching at Harvard.

Into the house with Savannah came all of the dogs – Mudgie, Chance, and Bachelor were joined by Morgan's three dogs and Savannah's two – Clooney, Morgan's elderly pitbull, and Winston and Boris, his bulldogs, along with Savannah's pug, Rusty, and her new puppy, an English pointer called Ted. JJ's cat saw this and went running for shelter.

Rossi quickly kicked the entire pack, plus the boys, back out into the back yard, and the adults sat around with drinks making small talk as they watched them all romping around together.

Jack looked like he was in heaven playing tug-of-war with Ted and Boris. There was an expression of pure delight on his face as he yanked on the rope.

Emily nudged Hotch. "You need to buy your kid a puppy," she said quietly.

"It's starting to look like it, isn't it?" he said somewhat regretfully. "I just don't know if we have time for one. Or room."

Emily grimaced. "Yeah, it _does _take a while to train them up. But you could get something small."

"Maybe. I don't know. I do sort of miss having a dog in the house, though."

Her eyebrows went up. "You had one?"

"Yeah, when Jack was a baby. A Golden Retriever named Maudie. She was the greatest dog I've ever met. Really well-behaved. She almost never barked, and if we told her to sit and stay, she'd sit for hours and hours until we specifically told her she could move."

"Aww, that's sweet," Emily said, envying Hayley a little as she imagined being married to Hotch, living in a pretty little house with baby Jack, a Golden Retriever, and probably a white picket fence – the American dream.

Although, she thought as she watched him happily watching his son, it might not be the American dream, but living with Hotch, Declan, Jack, and the baby in a tiny, cramped apartment – with Sergio, and Jack's hermit crab, and (maybe) a little puppy – that sounded pretty damn good, too.

Actually, living _anywhere _with Hotch sounded great.

This thought surprised her. She'd only ever lived with two of her boyfriends before (not including Ian) and moving in together had certainly never been her idea. And she'd only been dating Hotch for about a month, but… she was already pretty sure that this relationship was going to last for a long time.

She chewed her lip, eyes smiling. Their relationship was already getting serious – actually, it had pretty much _started _serious. There was too much at stake for them to even start dating without genuinely wanting it to go somewhere. And lately she'd found herself missing him if they were apart even for a few hours. She wanted him close to her all the time, even when they weren't on a date or at work or on a case.

Yeah, she made a mental note to give him her extra key.

It wasn't quite moving in together, but it sent the right message that she was serious about this, that she wanted him in her life.

Probably clearing out a drawer for him, and maybe part of her closet, was long overdue. He certainly spent enough nights with her. Maybe she could have a drawer at his house, too –

"I need to talk to you," Garcia said under her breath, coming up behind Emily.

Emily froze, the possibilities rushing through her head. _What could she possibly know about now? _

"Okay," she said slowly with a not-so-subtle glance towards Hotch, who looked mildly uneasy at the tech's announcement. "About what?"

"Come, come," Garcia chirped, commanding. But she was quieter than usual. Emily's eyes narrowed, but she was a little relieved. If the technical analyst was hiding something, too, she could possibly use it to her advantage.

Emily followed Garcia upstairs to one of the spare bedrooms – and then she followed her into the walk-in closet.

So it was one of _those _meetings.

"Okay, what's the deal?" Emily began as the two of them sat down on the floor of the closet – they were surrounded by even more pairs of JJ's shoes, as though her own closet wasn't already overflowing with them. Garcia moved a pair of red heels over before sinking down next to Emily.

"I did a thing," Garcia admitted.

Emily's eyes narrowed. "What thing?"

Garcia took a deep breath. "Okay. So I don't _think _this is a violation of the Code, because – well, maybe it is, but I didn't mean for it to be –"

"Pen, spit it out," Emily whined. "Do I need to go get JJ so we can put you on trial?"

"No! I don't think so. Well, maybe. But I wanna give you my side first."

There was a pause, with both women blinking at each other.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Emily asked, growing restless.

"Okay, okay, fine. So last week – when you left early on that Monday, when Clyde called – well, Hotch left early that day, too."

Emily felt a blush creeping onto her face and her heartbeat picked up. _They know. _

"And Hotch, as you know, does not leave early," Garcia continued, oblivious to how flustered Emily was getting. Thank God she wasn't a profiler. "So Reid thought that was weird. So he went to tell Rossi. And Rossi called me. And he asked me to look into it."

"And?"

"And I did. And I found… Well, I found some stuff that… Listen, whatever you and Hotch are doing, I love it, I'm totally supportive, even if it's nothing – you don't have to tell me right now –"

" –oh my God, what did you do?" It had to be pretty damn bad if she wasn't going to grill her for information on her potential relationship with Hotch. Garcia freaked out any time she suspected Emily so much as went on _one date _with _any _guy, and now she'd found enough evidence to know with certainty that Emily and Hotch were seeing each other, and she wasn't even going to ask about it? This could _not _be good.

"I wasn't even looking for you initially! But Rossi told me to watch Hotch so I watched Hotch and then I saw _you_ with Hotch… But anyways, now I don't know what to do because Rossi keeps asking me if I found anything, cuz he's still worried about him, but I don't know what to tell him because he's a profiler and I'm a crappy liar, so I have to tell the truth, but if I tell the truth then I'm breaking the Code cuz I'm not supposed to use my magical computer skills for evil, and we have the confidentiality rules so I can't tell Rossi anything involving you –"

"—But if you don't tell him, he'll know it has something to do with me or JJ and he'll get even more suspicious," Emily concluded for her friend as she realized it herself. This was bad. Catch-22.

"Exactly!" Garcia exclaimed, rubbing her hands dramatically over her face. "I don't know what to do! So I've just been avoiding Rossi like the plague this whole time, but he's starting to give me funny looks – so do I tell him anyway and break the Code? Or do I tell him I can't say anything because of the Code, and then he _knows _it has to do with you or JJ – and he also knows it's not JJ, for obvious reasons – I mean, either way, he figures out what's happening. So I guess what I'm asking you is would you like me to tell him, or should we let him work it out for himself?"

Emily pursed her lips for a moment, considering, and then she sighed dramatically. "I'll tell him."

This definitely surprised the technical analyst. "Really? You will?"

"Sure," Emily agreed somewhat reluctantly, anxiety bubbling up inside of her. She started picking at her cuticles (her fingernails were chewed down to nubs already).

"You're not mad, are you?" Garcia asked worriedly.

"No, it's okay," Emily assured her. She wasn't mad, really – of course, it wasn't ideal that she was being pretty much forced into telling their secret, but the team was going to find out anyway, right? And realistically, if Rossi had already asked Garcia to look into it, he probably already knew.

She started to get up off of the closet floor – and fuck, it was starting to get difficult. Garcia grabbed her elbow and pulled her up.

"Thanks," Emily said as she steadied herself with a hand on the small of her back.

"No problemo, my friend," Garcia chirped. "One time when I was having Kendall, I got stuck on the floor for like two hours, before Savannah came home and found me."

"_Yikes,_" Emily replied, wincing in sympathy. "How far along were you then?"

Garcia shrugged. "I don't remember."

"Why didn't you call somebody?"

"I did. I called Derek."

"And he didn't immediately swoop in to save you?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Cuz… because I was wearing my pumps and refused to take them off, so he refused to come help me off the floor."

Emily laughed. "And if you'd taken them off, you would've been able to get up on your own?"

"Maybe. I dunno. I didn't try. I thought I'd never hear the end of the Life-Alert jokes, though."

Emily started to say something, but Garcia cut her off. "Don't worry, Gumdrop, I won't tell anyone – wouldn't want to subject you to the cruelty of Derek Morgan and Jennifer Jareau."

"I could've gotten up on my own," Emily pointed out defensively, rubbing her baby bump.

"Uh-huh. Sure you could've."

"I could've! But seriously, please don't say anything – Aaron would take me out of the field _so _fast if he knew –"

"Aaron?" Garcia repeated, a full-blown satisfied grin growing on her face.

Emily rolled her eyes, trying to pretend she wasn't blushing. "Please don't say anything, okay?"

"I won't. Gah, I can't believe you two are really together! This is the best thing that's ever happened. I ship it so hard. You're my OTP."

Emily wasn't going to bother asking what an OTP was – she was sure it was some sort of fangirling phrase. "So does JJ know, too?"

"No." She paused. "Well, she thinks she does, but _I _didn't tell her."

Emily winced. "Is it against the Code if I tell Rossi before she knows?"

Garcia considered. "No, I think in this specific situation – of course Rossi would find a loophole without ever reading the binder – you _have _to tell him, you don't _want _to. But honestly, Em, how long are you two planning on keeping this a secret? Cuz secrets generally don't last too long in our particular social circle. Remember when JJ and You-Know-Who thought they had a secret relationship?"

"Yeah, I remember." It'd been so painfully obvious to the rest of them that the only surprising thing about it was that the couple truly believed they'd kept the secret. "Is anyone _ever _going to fill me in on what happened between those two?"

"Not me," Garcia said quickly. "Topic off-limits."

"Penelope, was it really that bad?" Emily asked, putting a hand on her friend's arm.

Garcia nodded gravely.

Emily searched her face carefully, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth. "Is JJ okay?"

"She is now."

That still wasn't the answer Emily was looking for, but it was vaguely comforting. "Okay. I'm gonna go back downstairs and have a little chat with Rossi, I guess."

"Good luck!"

#

"Aar – Hotch," Emily hissed from the hallway, not quite sticking her head through the doorframe to where much of the team was gathered around the kitchen island, snacking on the plentiful appetizers that they'd all pulled together.

He turned around to look at her, raising his eyebrows. 'Hotch' sounded funny coming from her now. She made a come-here motion with her pointer finger. He mumbled something about going to the bathroom and followed her back upstairs to the guest bedroom where she'd just talked to Garcia.

"Garcia knows," she said simply.

His mouth pressed into a thin line. "How?"

"Long story short, Rossi asked her to check up on you."

"Ah. I see. So now what?"

"I don't know," Emily admitted. "But I do think we need to tell Dave. Because Garcia is freaked out that she has to keep this secret from him. You know she's terrible at keeping secrets."

He nodded, considering. "Okay. I think you're right. Do you want to tell him now?"

"Should we? And just get it over with?"

"It's up to you, sweetheart."

She stretched up on her tippy-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, and he gently ran his hands up and down her arms, giving her goosebumps. He squeezed her hand.

"I love you," she told him.

"I love you, too."

A sad little smile crossed her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately.

"I just… I wish we didn't have to tell yet."

"We don't have to," he told her quickly.

"But Garcia –"

"I'll tell Rossi to leave her alone."

"Really? Do you think he'll get suspicious?"

"Not about us. He'll just think I don't want him digging in my personal life. Which isn't entirely false."

"Yeah, that's –"

Just at that moment, she was interrupted when the bedroom door flew open. They both jumped and their hands flew to their hips, where their guns usually rested – but then they sighed in relief, hearts still racing. It was just Henry.

He was looking up at them, surprised.

"What's up, buddy?" Hotch asked him, recovering first.

"We're playing hide-and-seek," Henry explained, looking confused. "What are you guys doing in here?"

"Um," Emily began uncertainly. "We were just looking at this painting," she made up, looking at the one on the wall.

"Oh," Henry said, and the adults were once again relieved. It was clear that the child saw no reason to doubt that claim. "Well I'm going to hide under the pillows. Don't tell Jack!"

"We won't," Hotch promised. "We're going back downstairs. Do you us want us to bury you?"

"Yeah!"

They carefully arranged the pillows on top of Henry so that he was invisible – except when the pillows bounced up and down when he giggled – and then they left, shutting the door gently behind them to make sure Jack didn't hear any sounds that would give Henry's position away. Hotch went back downstairs to rejoin the party, and Emily waited a few minutes at the top of the stairs before doing the same thing.

Their secret was safe(ish) for now.

#

"So we have some news," JJ said after they all finished dinner. She reached out and grabbed Rossi's hand.

Pretty much the entire team prepared themselves to hear that they were expecting another baby, but that actually wasn't what they were going to say.

"We have been trying to find a day for our wedding," JJ began, "And we _really _wanted to be able to pick a day that everybody could come, and we didn't want to have to move it a million times when cases pop up, because _somebody _refuses to get married in a courthouse," she said with a sideways glance at Rossi, "So we talked to Cruz, and he agreed to put the team on stand down for one day."

"When she says 'we' talked to Cruz," Rossi said, "She means just her."

"Wait," Morgan said. "You _actually _got us on stand down? We haven't been on stand down in like ten years!"

"Nine years, three months and nineteen days," said Reid excitedly. "But we got pulled in on the Fisher King during that one, anyway."

Even Hotch looked surprised now. "Was that really the last time we were guaranteed a day off? That's insane."

"It's still not 100% guaranteed," JJ cautioned. "We picked June 21st, which is a Sunday. If a case comes up on that week Wednesday to Saturday, they'll send Cooper's team. But if it's before that, and we go, we do have to stay and work even if it means missing the 21st."

"That better not happen," Garcia said darkly as though she would personally make sure that it didn't. "I can't believe my sweetums is getting married!" she cried.

"I hope 'sweetums' means you," Rossi said under his breath to JJ.

JJ ignored him. "So the wedding is about six weeks away, so I'm going to need extra help from my maids of honor for planning," she said, looking at Emily and Garcia.

"Yay!" they exclaimed.

"And we want Kendall to be the flower girl," Rossi added, bouncing the babbling little girl on his knee.

Garcia gasped. "Did you hear that, Kendy? You get to be the flower girl for Uncle Dave and Auntie JJ!"

Kendall was ten months old now, and while she was beginning to understand some of what people said to her, she gave them a big smile now simply because she could sense her mother's excitement.

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Garcia said happily. "We'll get to look at flowers and color swatches and dinner menus and dresses and –"

"Mumma," Kendall said suddenly, the smile still on her face as she reached out to Garcia to be held.

Garcia's jaw dropped. "Ohmygod, did she just say –"

"Mumma!"

Garcia lifted her daughter into her arms and hugged her tight. "Kendy-Boo, my sweet little sugar plum fairy, can you say that again for Mommy?"

"Mumma," she said a third time with a smug little smile. She was eating up the attention that she was now getting from the entire BAU.

"Say daddy," Morgan said, leaning in towards them. "Can you say daddy, Kendall?"

"Derek Morgan, you let me have my moment or I swear to God –" Garcia scolded him while Savannah smacked him over the head.

JJ was staring wistfully at her boys, as though she was dreaming of the day when they'd start to talk. Emily's hand fell onto her baby bump as she thought about the same thing. Although she certainly had quite a ways to go before she'd get to that point.

Reid cleared his throat. "Well, um, while we're all making announcements... I know you'll all find out soon anyway, so... Ashley and I are dating now."

JJ beamed at him, Rossi ruffled his hair, and Morgan clapped him on the back.

"Reid, that's great!" Emily congratulated him, and Garcia looked just about overwhelmed with happiness.

"Aaron, that makes you the only bachelor left!" Rossi exclaimed as though he was implying something. "We might have to have a boys' night pretty soon. Take you out to the bar, fix you up with someone nice –"

"I don't know about that," Hotch said as his eyes flicked to meet Emily's for a millisecond. Her jaw tightened, but there was a little amusement in her eyes: she didn't like the idea of him with another woman, but she trusted him not to take the bait.

Rossi had been watching carefully for Hotch's reaction, and JJ for Emily's. The Italian and the blonde made eye contact and exchanged tiny smirks and nods.

Yeah, their friends were definitely together. Or very close to it.

"So, are you boys ready for summer?" Savannah asked Henry, Jack, and Declan.

"Yes!" they all exclaimed.

"What grades will you be in next year?"

"Sixth," said Declan.

"Third," said Jack.

"First!" said Henry.

"Very nice," Savannah smiled. "First grade, Henry, wow! And Declan, is that middle school for you now?"

He nodded. "I'm excited because we get to do more off-campus trips and we get to choose our classes now and we can take extra. I'm going to learn Latin!"

"Latin? That's really cool. Isn't that supposed to be one of the harder languages to learn?"

"Yeah, but I already know a bunch and it gets easier every time you learn a new one."

"Really? Which ones do you already know?"

"Well I'm fluent in Spanish, Italian, French, and Russian," he said, counting them on his fingers. He frowned. "And... There should be one more... Oh, duh. English."

"Don't you remember Gaelic, Dec?" Emily asked.

He grimaced. "Some, but they don't have it at school, so I haven't really been able to learn it officially. I think I can probably still understand most of it, though."

"You should try to relearn it," she suggested. "Your dad would be really happy if you kept it... in the family," she said, trailing off at the end when she realized what she was saying.

Morgan and Rossi had sort of dirty looks on their faces, and Reid had a small frown. Garcia bit her lip. JJ shot Emily a sympathetic glance, and Hotch reached under the table and gently squeezed Emily's hand.

"Um, Mom," Declan said, noting the tension and trying to diffuse it, "I think you're getting much better at Russian lately!"

"Yeah, it's getting a little easier," Emily said, glad that he had changed the topic.

"I wish I knew more languages," JJ whined. "I only remember half of the Spanish I learned in high school."

"Me, too," said Savannah. "I don't get how you people can keep them all straight in your heads. How many do you know, Emily?"

"I'm fluent in six," she said, thinking, "I can usually work through Latin, Greek and Portuguese. My Russian isn't very good, and I know bits and pieces of Gaelic, but that's all."

"That's all," Morgan repeated mockingly. "How about you, Blake? Reid?"

"I can read sixteen, but I can't really pronounce them," Reid admitted.

"I know four, plus sign language," said Blake.

"That's more impressive than mine, though," Emily said. "My mother raised me speaking English and French, and my nanny only spoke Spanish. So I knew three from the beginning. And we lived in Germany, Turkey and Italy, so I learned all of those by submersion. Had to either learn it or understand nothing. It's much easier to pick it up that way."

Declan nodded. "I've known English, Italian, French and Russian since I started talking. Spanish is the only one I actually tried to learn."

"I'm just so happy that my little Kendy actually talked!" Garcia squealed, giving her daughter another tight hug and placing a kiss on top of her kinky hair, which was tied in pigtails with big bows.

"What languages should we teach the baby?" Declan asked Emily innocently.

"I haven't thought about that, actually. French and Italian?" She wished she could teach them Gaelic – Ian would be _so _proud if his kids knew how to speak the Irish language –

"And I can teach it Russian!" Declan exclaimed.

"Ugh," Morgan said. "That's no fair. That kid's gonna be smarter than me by the time it's five."

"Not that that's particularly impressive," JJ teased. Morgan elbowed her in the ribs.

"Mommy, can I help feed Alex and Luke?" Henry asked.

"Sure, baby. After they wake up, okay?"

Henry nodded. "Auntie Penelope, can me and Jack and Declan play with Kendall?"

"Of course! Kendy, your big cousin Henry is gonna play with you, okay? Can you say Henry?"

Kendall stayed quiet, but she turned to look directly at Henry.

"Hey, she knows my name!" he exclaimed happily.

"She knows _all_ of your names," said Garcia. "We do flash cards. Kendall, where is Uncle Reid?"

She looked at him.

"Where's Auntie Em?"

She pointed.

Garcia went through everybody at the table, and Kendall got all of them right.

"She knows all her shapes, too," Morgan said proudly. "Where's that book?"

They pulled out a board book, and the boys huddled around the baby and asked her to point out different shapes. Squares, circles, rectangles, ovals. They cheered every time she got one right, making her giggle.

"Where's the triangle, Kendall?" Jack asked.

She pointed to it.

"Good job!" Henry and Jack told her.

"Wait, Jack," Declan said in a low voice. "Are you sure that's a triangle?"

Jack frowned. "What do you mean? Of course it's a triangle."

"Really? I must be confused then," he said with a mischievous smirk. "Because I thought it was a _house,_" he said, referring to Emily and Hotch's _Pictionary_ fail.

"Declan!" Emily scolded, but she couldn't hide her amusement as her eyes crinkled.

Jack burst into laughter and looked at his dad, who was smiling and shaking his head.

They'd never let it go.

JJ and Rossi exchanged knowing glances, and then JJ looked over at Garcia – the technical analyst, seeing that JJ and Rossi were getting suspicious and not wanting them to draw any conclusions, quickly said, "Hey! Let's let the kiddos open their presents now!"

The three boys perked up instantly. Even Kendall turned her big brown eyes to her mom, a tiny smile growing on her chubby little face. She knew what presents were, too.

"Presents?" Henry repeated excitedly.

"Yes! Can one of you go grab them? They're in the family room."

Rossi, sufficiently distracted, got up to go retrieve the gift bags. He brought them back and Garcia carefully looked at the names on each of the tags before handing them out – the twins' bags went to JJ to be opened later, and Henry, Jack, and Declan were each given one. And, to her surprise, so was Emily.

"What…?" she asked, looking up at Garcia, confused.

"For Baby Prentiss. Duh."

The boys opened their gifts – the newest Nerf gun pistols with the darts, some model airplanes they could build, and – in another, separate box outside – a hover-board for the three of them to share. Which led to the greatest gift of all – a video of Morgan wiping out while riding the hover-board, falling onto Reid and taking the genius down with him.

Kendall opened her present, too – a fancy little cloth doll which she didn't let out of her sight for the rest of the day.

But Emily's present was the most surprising.

Onesies, baby wash cloths, tiny little sneakers, a few blankets, some bibs, and a little teddybear. The gift was sweet – but Emily just stared at it, a little crease forming between her eyebrows.

"Garcia," she began slowly, looking over all of the items. "Why… Why is this all pink?"

"Why's it all pink?"Garcia repeated quickly, equally confused. "It's all pink because –" A look of genuine horror crossed her face. "Oh, my God –"

"Did you snoop through my medical records?" Emily asked evenly in a quiet, hollow voice, too surprised to be angry.

"I'm sorry! I thought you knew!" Garcia cried guiltily.

Emily's hands moved downward to cradle her bump, and her lips parted slightly. She was rendered temporarily speechless, but then her eyes flicked upwards to meet Garcia's, and she uttered softly, "I - it's a girl?"

Garcia's hand was now clapped over her mouth and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Emily's eyes dropped down to her swollen stomach, and she rubbed her thumb over the baby lightly - and then a tiny smile crept onto her face.

For a nanosecond Lauren surfaced and thought of how Ian would've absolutely worshipped the ground his daughter walked on - she'd be his sweet little princess -

But then Lauren was gone and it was just Emily again, a single mom in the middle of a family gathering who had just received some of the most important news of her life. She was going to have a little girl.

She knew but didn't even care that the entire team was watching her, waiting on her reaction - her eyes, full of tears, excitement, and an undeniable brightness, flicked upwards to meet Hotch's. He was the one she wanted to share this moment with, not Ian.

Hotch was beaming at her proudly, the same feeling of elation rising up in him that he'd felt when he and Hayley had found out that Jack was a boy - there was something so undeniably real about the baby once you knew what you were expecting.

He wasn't exactly sure when he'd started thinking of himself as an expectant father again.

"Congrats, Emily," he said softly, longing to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but he knew he couldn't right now, not with the whole team there watching. Maybe he'd plan a little celebration later on, though.

Soon the whole team was congratulating her with hugs, and, of course, Italian kisses on the cheek from Rossi.

"I'm jealous," JJ whispered in her ear with a wink. It was no secret that the blonde wanted a girl.

Declan looked so excited it almost brought tears to Emily's eyes - Bean would be his little princess, too, no doubt about it. As Morgan pulled her in for a bear hug, she realized how grateful she was to have him as her 'big brother' now, and how much easier her childhood would've been if she'd had him by her side for her whole life - and Bean would have two big brothers to look after her.

Aaron pulled her in for a hug then: a formal, friendly hug that wouldn't arouse any suspicions - but he was resisting the urge to press his hands against her baby bump and feel those little kicks from their baby girl.

Neither of them noticed that they were thinking about each other's kids as their own.


	38. Chapter 38

Late that night, Emily and Hotch lounged around in his living room. Emily had dropped Declan back at school on the way home from Rossi and JJ's and then she went to get some things from her apartment before heading over to Hotch's for the night. Jack was now in bed, giving them a little alone time. They were watching a rerun of _Seinfeld_, but not really paying attention to what was happening because they were too wrapped up in each other to focus.

"Hey, I have something for you," Emily said suddenly as she remembered it.

"I have something for you, too," he said, his eyes crinkling. If there was one thing that Emily really noticed about Hotch now that they were together, it was that he smiled way more than people thought he did – he just showed it a lot more subtly. Little twitches of his lips, a mostly-concealed twinkle in his eyes, even just a tiny shift in his tone of voice – he smiled, just not in an obvious way. His happiness was private.

But not with her, not anymore. Now he was smiling at her all the time – real, genuine smiles with chuckling and laughter and his perfect dimples. And every time she effortlessly coaxed one of those smiles from him now, she fell a little bit deeper in love.

"Do you?" she asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"I do," Hotch confirmed, getting up. "I'll go get it. It's in the kitchen."

"Okay."

He returned a moment later with a little box tied up with ribbon.

"You actually _bought _me something?" Emily asked, brow furrowed. Hers wasn't exactly a real present. "Aaron, you didn't have to –"

"I know," he told her simply. "I wanted to. Now go on and open it."

She undid the ribbon and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful necklace – a delicate gold chain with a little pink topaz gem on the charm. It was pretty, it was romantic. It was expensive.

Her lips parted a little in admiration and her big brown eyes darted upwards to meet his. "Aaron – it's beautiful, but it's way too much –"

"– No it isn't," he argued, sinking onto the couch next to her. He took the box from her hands. "You deserve it."

"I – but just out of the blue like that –"

"–It's not out of the blue," he told her, carefully removing the necklace from the box it rested in. "It's pink for Bean."

A beautiful necklace for a beautiful woman, to celebrate the fact that she was going to have a beautiful little girl.

Emily's eyes instantly filled with tears – she was touched. "Aaron – you are_ so_ sweet. But you really didn't have to –"

"–You're the one growing a human inside of you," he pointed out, one of those subtler smiles on his face. "The least I can do is spoil you a little bit."

Neither of them said it, but it hung in the air between them for a moment: it wasn't like _Ian _was buying her gifts of appreciation for having his baby. So Hotch would gladly accept that role of doting boyfriend and father.

Emily leaned in and kissed him. When she pulled away, one of those dimpled smiles she loved was on his face.

"I guess that means you like it?"

"I love it," she told him truthfully.

"Are you sure you like the gold? There was silver, too, but I thought maybe you'd like it to match your Gimmel ring, so you can wear both."

She looked up at him in surprise, searching his face to try to decipher exactly what he meant by that. But there was no judgement in his eyes, and no hidden message in his expression – he'd truly picked gold because he wanted her to be able to wear the only thing she had left from Ian, the only thing she had left from the only other man she'd ever genuinely loved.

And she'd been _so _sure that if anyone knew she still wore those rings, they'd think she was crazy, but not Aaron. Somehow he just understood. Her heart swelled with gratitude, and maybe a little bit of guilt – if Hotch loved her enough to completely accept that a part of her was still hopelessly in love with Doyle… why couldn't she love Hotch enough to _stop_ loving Doyle?

"Thank you," she whispered, fighting back tears. How comforting it was to know that he actually wanted her despite it all. He'd seen her darkest secret and looked past it, yet he fully understood and still wanted her to be a part of his life, a part of _his son's _life…

His calloused fingers carefully manipulated the tiny clasp and he put the jewelry around his Emily's neck. It settled perfectly between her collarbones.

"You are stunning," he told her sincerely, and she flushed. One of her hands seemed to move on its own to reach out and grasp his, and he felt the intensity with which she clung to him, as though holding his hand was her only way of keeping him there with her. He squeezed hers just as tightly, hoping it would convey his message back to her: he had no intentions of going anywhere. He was staying right here.

"What'd you have for me?" he changed the subject, trying to put her at ease. The corners of her lips twitched up a bit; he looked like a kid at Christmas, just dying to know what his present was –

"Oh… it's nothing, really –" she sniffled. How could her house key possibly compare to what he'd just given her?

"Let me see."

She hesitantly pulled it out of her sweater pocket and held it in a closed fist. She looked up at him, uncertain, but then decided to just go for it. Emily flipped the hand that was still in hers over so that his palm was open, face up, and she carefully pressed the key into his hand. He gave her fingers a little squeeze before looking down at what she'd given him.

Hotch's eyes snapped up to meet hers – he was surprised, she could tell, but after only a fraction of a second that surprise was already being replaced by elation. He'd been wanting to give her his key for a while now, but he was afraid it was too soon. He wanted to make sure they were going at her pace, not his – now that he knew her better and saw how often she second-guessed and doubted not only herself but also the other people in her life – he'd _never _call her fragile, but in a way she was, and he needed to make sure that she was completely comfortable with whatever they were doing. He didn't want to pressure her in any way. So he was going slow, even if it was a bit slower than he'd prefer.

Anything for her.

But now she'd made this big move, and she'd done it long before he expected her to. She was watching him again with those big brown eyes, trying to see if she'd done the right thing.

Apparently he took a second too long to respond, because she was once again doing that sweet thing that she did where she just started talking because she couldn't stand the quiet.

"I just… I don't know if you think it's too soon, and you definitely don't have to give me yours or anything, but I just realized this morning that I really miss you when we're not together, and I was thinking maybe if you had a key you could come over more – I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to –"

God, did she really think that he didn't want to spend time with her?

He hated to profile her, but he was really starting to think that Emily's whole situation with Doyle had messed with her far more than she was willing to admit. He'd known her for so many years, and yet even as a profiler he'd never seen through her confident façade: he'd never seen how her little insecurities added up, how she couldn't see the good in herself, how she constantly pined for the approval of her coworkers, and more pertinent to her relationship with Doyle, he had never noticed how she shied away from romantic relationships, like she didn't think she deserved to be loved…

He'd be damned if he let her think that for another minute.

Emily abruptly stopped talking when Hotch got up and grabbed his keys from where they were sitting on the kitchen island. He came back over to the couch and twisted her key onto his keychain, and then he carefully took his extra key off – he'd already had one made for her – and passed it to her.

"Are you sure?" she whispered.

"Absolutely."

They both knew this was a big act of showing trust – giving each other the keys meant that they were opening up in a way. They trusted each other enough to be in their homes unsupervised, to give each other full, unfiltered access to their private lives. Besides, Emily thought, maybe this could be a thing for convenience, too. Maybe if she was busy for some reason, he could come over and feed Sergio. Maybe she could bring his mail in or take Jack home from school.

"Hey," he said suddenly, remembering something else. "Let's go into the bathroom."

Emily tilted her head in confusion, an amused smile working its way onto her lips. "The bathroom?" she echoed.

"Yeah. I wanna show you something."

"Okay," she agreed, getting up to follow him down the hallway. She had no idea where he was going with this.

When they squeezed into the tiny bathroom, Hotch pointed proudly at the countertop.

It took Emily a minute to figure out what she was supposed to be looking at. He'd bought a new toothbrush holder. This one had room for four toothbrushes, unlike his old one, which only had room for two. And the toothbrush he'd gifted her when she forgot hers was taking up one of the extra slots.

Her heart melted. God, she was going soft. Who knew something so domestic could seem so overwhelmingly romantic?

He was making room for her in his life. In his home.

She stretched up on her toes to kiss him, her arms snaking around his neck. The kiss lasted about as long as it could without tempting them to go further, and then they both pulled away, smiling at each other.

"All that for a toothbrush slot?" he asked teasingly. "Imagine what would happen if I gave you a drawer."

"Try it and see what happens," she winked.

#

"Good morning, darling," Clyde Easter's smug voice greeted Emily as she answered her phone at 4:08 AM.

"What do you want? And how do you_ always_ manage to 'forget' the time difference?" she groaned, sitting up in bed and accidentally waking Hotch.

"No time difference. Plane just landed."

She paused. "Wait, what?"

"Everything okay?" asked Hotch groggily. She didn't answer.

"The plane just arrived," said Clyde. "At the Richmond Airport."

"Okay, _why?" _

"International serial killer just killed a couple in California."

"Then why are you in Richmond?"

"To pick up you and your lovely little team, of course."

"We don't have jurisdiction in California if the local PD doesn't invite us in –"

"–aren't you listening? It's international. Interpol has jurisdiction. And we're inviting you in right now."

She frowned. "You can't just call _me_ – you have to tell Hotch. You know, my unit chief?"

"But I like _you _so much better, darling. And besides, I'm well aware that he's most likely lying in bed next to you right now. So you tell him. They're expecting us around eight their time, so we'll be in Quantico to brief you in, say, an hour and a half? I'll see you and your team there. Ta ta."

He hung up and Emily stared at her phone for a moment in disbelief. Arrogant ass. And how the hell did he know about her and Hotch? Not that she was really surprised.

"Clyde has a case for us," she told Hotch. "He wants everyone at the bullpen in an hour and a half."

"A case?"

She nodded. "International serial in California. That's all I know."

Hotch nodded, sitting up. "I'll talk to Cruz. You call the team, okay?"

"Okay."

They rolled out of bed and got to work.


	39. Chapter 39

They were all in the bullpen waiting for Clyde to arrive by 5:30 AM. Hotch was filling out some preliminary paperwork in his office, and Rossi was gathering some stuff together in his. Reid and Blake prepared the team's usual 8 coffees assembly-line-style. Morgan was on the phone with Savannah, assuring her that she _could_ call Kendall's nanny if the baby got too fussy.

Emily was shooting Declan a text – he worried when she didn't keep him updated on the job. She didn't tell him details, of course, but she always told him when she was leaving, where they were going, and when she got back.

JJ sat at her desk, applying her makeup as Garcia tied two perfectly matching French braids into her long blonde hair.

The elevator dinged, and Emily's head snapped up. There was Clyde, looking suave as always, and behind him was – to Emily's surprise and delight – her entire Interpol team!

"Hello, darling," Clyde greeted her as she rushed towards the elevator.

"Hi," she breathed, and then her tone became accusatory as she said, "You didn't tell me you were bringing everybody!"

"Didn't want to ruin the surprise," he said dryly as she rushed past him into the arms of a thin, strong-looking black man in his lower forties, with a closely-shaven head, who was wearing a sharp, dark suit.

"How _are _you?" she asked them all as she moved to hug an older looking man, maybe in his sixties, whose slightly-frumpier suit reminded the BAU vaguely of Gideon after a long flight. He kissed Emily on each cheek.

"Excellent, Ma'am," he said in a strong Scottish accent. "And yourself?"

"Better when you don't call me 'ma'am'," she said as though they'd had that particular conversation many times. "Especially since I'm not your boss anymore."

"Oh, my God, Tam," the fourth man, with curly brunette hair and probably in his upper thirties, said dramatically to the woman next to him. He wore large glasses and a felt, double breasted black coat. "Prentiss was our _boss_?"

The woman rolled her eyes and elbowed him before hugging Emily herself. She was dark-skinned – half African and half Indian, she'd inherited a nice blend of their pigmentation. Her long, straight black hair was thrown back in a high ponytail. She was thin yet strong, and her cheekbones were high and prominent, but her most striking feature was her dark green eyes.

"Do you see what I have to deal with while you're away? I _miss _you," she said to Emily in an English accent.

"I missed you, too," Emily said sincerely.

"How's that baby?"

"Great," she smiled, running a hand down her swollen abdomen, which was actually pretty visible in the blouse she was wearing. "Clean bill of health so far."

"Boy or girl?" the older man asked gruffly.

"Girl," she said proudly. Tamsyn squealed excitedly.

"What color is the nursery?" she asked.

Emily hesitated. "Um, yeah… Right now it's yellow, but I think I'm going to repaint it – I haven't really done much work on it yet," she admitted.

"Well what color are you changing it to?"

"I don't know yet."

The brunette man frowned. "That makes it hard to buy a gift, P."

"You don't have to get a gift –"

"Then what? Baby ends up thinking, 'Wow, Uncle Max and Auntie Tam are _such _assholes.'? Not on my watch," he said, beaming at her.

"Oh, well if it's that big of a deal, I'm sure you'll find something," said Emily, shaking her head.

"Oh, we will. Don't you worry about that –"

"—Okay, happy reunion time over," said Clyde. "Emily, introduce the people. Penelope Garcia, can you help me set up this laptop in your round table room?"

"Of course, Sir," Garcia squeaked, leading him away. The clicking of her shoes gradually faded.

"Okay, well, guys, this is Special Agent Andrew Frye," – the older man – "And these are Agents Jaylen Rush and Maxwell Marston, and Dr. Tamsyn Royal," – the black man, brunette man, and woman, respectively.

"This is SSA David Rossi, our Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Alex Blake and Dr. Spencer Reid, and Agents Derek Morgan and Jennifer Jareau. And, um, Clyde already stole our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia."

"It's _so _nice to finally meet you," Tamsyn said cordially. "We've heard so many stories –"

"I didn't do it," said JJ and Morgan together, causing them all to laugh.

"Ready when you are," Clyde called, annoyed, from the round table room. They all headed over.

"Pen, we need more chairs," JJ told the technical analyst as they all filed into the room. The agents of the BAU had already - not being the perfect hosts - sunk into their regular seating arrangement. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all!"

"And more coffee?" Clyde inquired.

"Yeah, of course," Garcia agreed, rushing to get the chairs and to start another pot of coffee. Morgan went along to help - after giving Clyde a dirty look for acting like Garcia was their secretary.

Emily winced sympathetically. "What time did you guys leave?"

"One in the morning our time," Rush said somewhat bitterly.

"Did you at least sleep on a plane?"

"We don't all have private jets," Clyde muttered. "So no, not really."

"Tamsyn snored the whole way here," Max accused.

"I did not!" she argued defensively.

"Yeah, okay," he agreed, rolling his eyes. "Tell that to the drool stain on Frye's jacket."

She whirled around in mild terror to inspect their boss - but he was, to her relief, no longer wearing the jacket. "No proof."

"Wait a second," Rush said as it dawned on him, interrupting what would no doubt have been a sassy comeback from Max. "Did he say you have a private jet?"

"Yeah, we do," Emily said, smiling at how incredibly jealous they all looked.

"And it has to leave within the next hour if we want to get to California on time, so let's get going," Clyde commanded.

They all settled into the chairs Morgan and Garcia had retrieved, and Clyde took the front of the room to present the case.

He cleared his throat, and a few photos began to pop up onto the screen – gory ones.

"The first murder was in September 2012 in Russia – Dmitri Ratovitcz, a thirty-eight-year-old father of three, highly successful in his field, no known enemies. They found him in a back alley in Moscow, eyes cut out, ears cut out, nose, the whole shebang. Cause of death was loss of blood."

He paused for a moment and then the next victim popped up. "Almost a year passed before the next victim was killed – June 2014. Rita Ignatowski, thirty-seven, CEO of a huge oil company in the UK – she was on holiday with her family in France when she went missing. Forty-eight hours later, they found her like this."

Photos popped up showing a similar MO to the previous murder, only now she was dumped on the beach rather than in an alley.

"And now we have our last victim, Gregor Svlatanov, thirty-two, of Sacramento, California, found yesterday in a creek, same mutilation done to his body."

Garcia looked a little nauseated.

"Well, victimology," JJ began. "Dmitri and Rita were both in their upper thirties, highly successful family people… Did Gregor have a family?"

"And what was his occupation?" added Rossi.

"Yeah, he had a wife and two kids," Rush said casually – there wasn't a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Emily's eyebrows went up and she looked up at him, surprised. As the father of three young kids, he usually was pretty upset about families involved in their cases –

"Svlatanov owned a bar," said Frye gruffly. "Him and 'is cousin. But there's a lot o' speculation – and quite a bit of circumstantial evidence – that he's one of the leaders of the Sacramento division of the Russian Mafia."

Max nodded along. "You can own a bar and be successful, but one peek into this guy's bank account will tell you that _something _shady is going on."

"I wonder why they picked him, though," Emily said, staring at his photo in her case file. "I mean, he's a bit younger than the other two… And he's lesser known, too."

Clyde nodded. "The other two made it in the papers, and people actually recognized their names. This guy didn't even get an article."

"Do we think he's devolving?" Blake asked.

Hotch shook his head. "These victims are carefully handpicked – if you're randomly selecting someone to kill, you don't fly halfway around the world to do it. Plus, all of the victims are of Russian descent… They must be connected somehow. Garcia, can you do some preliminary searches and see if you can come up with anything?"

"Of course, sir, right away," Garcia agreed, jumping up to go back to her lair. Anything to get away from the gory pictures on the monitor.

Clyde looked over to Emily. "You, Em, are in charge of these four," he said, pointing to her old team. "I have some… _things_ to take care of in DC, so I'll not be joining you in California for a few days."

"Okay," Emily said, probably a little too happily. Clyde gave her a dirty look.

"Alright, everybody," said Hotch, glad not only because Clyde's departure put him back in charge, but because he knew that the presence of Emily's old boss often made her uneasy. "Wheels up in twenty."

JJ's leg was bouncing on the plane.

Morgan knew why. "Quit bouncing, Blue," he said to her.

She gave him a dirty look and didn't even pause.

Morgan shook his head. "Gonna have to start calling you Green."

"Green?" Reid repeated. Blue made sense – Morgan nicknamed her that after he discovered that she was the only one out of the eight of them with blue eyes. But Green?

"Yeah, Green. You know, with _envy,_" he explained with a sideways glance towards where Emily was sitting next to Tamsyn. Her usual spot next to JJ was vacant.

JJ followed his glance, but instead of the sassy retort he'd expected, her pout deepened.

"Aw, come on," he said. "Don't tell me one little foreign chick can knock all of our beautiful blonde badass' confidence away."

A little smile touched JJ's lips then. "Oh, Derek, you always know _just _what to say."

"I do. I don't appreciate the sarcasm, though."

JJ was no doubt about to say something extremely lippy, but Hotch interrupted her:

"Alright, everybody, we're about twenty minutes out, so let's figure out how we're splitting up. I'd like Reid and Blake to go to the morgue. JJ and Morgan, to the latest crime scene, and Rossi and I will go to the police department. Em, you can come with us – or actually, you can decide, I guess. The rest is up to you."

"Right," she said uncertainly. Hotch was, she noticed, doing his 'Protection Mode' pairings. She would, too, then. "Frye, I assume you went to the other coroners' offices?" That was what he usually did – the rest of the Interpol team wasn't fond of the corpses. Not that Frye was, either, he could just stomach it better after years of experience.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You can go with Blake and Reid, then. Max, why don't you and Rush go to the station and talk with the families? Tam, you go with Morgan and JJ. I'll go with Dave and Aaron to talk to the detectives."

Hotch gave her a very brief, almost impossible-to-see smile. He was relieved that she'd decided to go with him. She smiled back at him. Maybe working this case with both her teams would be fun.

#

When they split, the first thing that Tamsyn said to Morgan and JJ when the SUV doors slammed shut was, "So Emily is with Hotchner, right?"

"Aw, nah nah nah. Not you too," Morgan groaned.

"We're pretty sure," said JJ, her eyes crinkling. "No hard evidence, but… There are a few of us on the team who have our suspicions."

"Completely unfounded suspicions," Morgan retorted.

"Honestly, Derek, you call yourself a profiler. Didn't you hear them on the plane? He called her 'Em' and she called him 'Aaron'."

"He always called her Em."

JJ's brow knitted and she made a face. "No he didn't," she said slowly, shaking her head a little.

"Well when she called him Aaron – I assumed that was just Unit-Chief-Emily-Prentiss talking."

"No way. Every time they talked while she was back at Interpol, she called him 'Sir'."

"Yeah, and whenever she talked about you all, she always said either Hotch or Agent Hotchner," added Tamsyn. "OMG, is he her baby daddy?"

"No," said JJ, maybe a little too quickly.

Morgan gave her a funny look. "You know who it is, though, don't you?"

She made a face. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm not telling you. It's against The Code. Plus, it's none of your business, Derek Morgan," JJ warned. "So don't go asking her. It'll only upset her."

At this, a protective scowl crossed his features. "Do I need to beat somebody up again?"

JJ frowned – they hadn't let Will off easily when he left her and Henry, despite the protesting she'd done. "I don't know. Just… let her sort it out herself, okay? She can take care of it, Derek. Really."

"I know she can. She's just too damn nice for her own good sometimes."

"Full disclosure," said Tamsyn, "If she ever does decide to reveal the bastard's identity to us, my boys will destroy him." She paused. "If Clyde doesn't decide to take his head off before they can get to him." Her team had been pretty upset when they found out Emily was leaving. They all assumed it had to do with her child's father, which made him enemy number one in their books.

"Good," said Morgan, satisfied to hear that her other team had taken care of her like a little sister, too. Even if she had been their boss.

JJ thought dryly that Clyde had already decided to take Doyle's head off ten years ago, and look how well that had gone.


	40. Chapter 40

"Holy crap," Morgan said in awe as he, JJ, Emily and Reid entered their suite and saw the huge flat screen TV in the living room, and the full kitchen. Their reservations had gotten mixed up somehow and the four of them had to share. They'd expected a standard hotel room – this was _so_ much better.

"No way!" JJ squealed as she entered the bedroom. "There's a fucking Jacuzzi in here!"

"Fill her up!" Morgan called to the blonde, despite the late hour. "I'll pour the champagne!"

"There is _not_ champagne in here –" JJ said in disbelief.

"There is, and it's chilled to perfection – Prentiss, is this a good brand?"

Out of the whole team, Emily was by far the best at picking alcohol. She examined the bottle.

"Oh, my God. Yes."

Morgan was amused by her reaction. "Want me to grab a fourth glass?"

She bit her lip, hand on her baby bump. "Oh, what the hell. Pregnant women in Europe drink all the time, right, Reid?"

He nodded. "Up to 66%, depending on which country you're talking about."

"What are the chances one glass of champagne is going to hurt the baby?"

"It's highly unlikely, especially since you're in your third trimester."

"Pour it, Derek," she instructed him.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, adding the fourth glass to the tray he took over to the Jacuzzi.

Ten minutes later, Morgan and JJ were in the tub, JJ in a bra and panties and Morgan in his boxers – they weren't exactly in the habit of packing their bathing suits for cases.

Reid and Emily stood just outside the tub, each a little self-conscious.

"Come on in, the water's fine!" Morgan called, his chiseled muscles pretty much rippling under his skin as he beckoned them forward.

"What are you waiting for? I want to pop the champagne," JJ said, looking just as flawless as Morgan in her own way. She didn't have a muscle that wasn't toned, and her stomach was perfectly flat.

"I don't know if we're beautiful enough to go in there," Emily said to Reid under her breath. "They look like Barbie and black Ken."

"At least you're pregnant," he replied just as quietly. "What's my excuse?"

"Let's just do it," she whispered. "Keep our shirts on?"

"Definitely."

They got in, and used Morgan's phone to snapchat Garcia as they popped the cork and poured the champagne. Soon they were comparing tattoos and 'battle' scars.

"Em, we never got our matching tattoos!" JJ exclaimed suddenly.

"Oh my God, you're right. I totally forgot about that."

Years ago they'd made plans to get something matching – they just had never agreed on _what _the tattoo would be.

"What are you gonna get?" Morgan asked them.

"We never decided," JJ said, thinking.

"I know!" Morgan exclaimed. "You can get nice portraits of my face right on your biceps. It'll look so –"

He abruptly stopped talking when JJ splashed some hot water onto his face.

"Alright, fine, Blue," he said, wiping his eyes. "I see how it is."

"We could get matching blackbirds," Emily suggested quietly, remembering the significance. JJ had suggested it to her while flying her to Paris while she was 'dead' – something transformative, she'd said, to cover the brand. Emily no longer wanted to cover the brand, but the tattoo would still be pretty… And the blackbird was also significant because that was how JJ had warned them that she was in trouble with Hastings and Askari, allowing Emily to help find her. The bird was now a symbol of their friendship – even though they'd been away in different countries, the _instant _they'd discovered that the other was in trouble, they were on their way back home.

"Oooooh, we totally should!" JJ agreed emphatically. "Let's make an appointment!"

"Okay, let's do it!"

"We should get matching tattoos, too, Reid!" Morgan suggested sarcastically in a high-pitched, girly voice.

"Yeah, no thanks," said Reid. "Of the twenty-one percent of adults in this country who have tattoos, ten percent have reported that they've gotten infections from them. And six percent said that their infection or issues with the tattoo lasted over four months!"

"Mine never got infected," JJ said.

"Neither did mine," said Emily.

"Mine, neither," said Morgan. "You're just scared of needles."

"Also true," Reid confirmed. "Getting a tattoo is like volunteering to get hundreds of vaccines all at once –"

"Come on, Spence," JJ said, eyes lighting up. "If _Morgan _can handle it, I think you'd be okay –"

"Ouch," Morgan said, clutching his heart as though he'd been greatly offended. "I'll have you know, Blue, my pain tolerance is _excellent _–"

"Yeah, yeah. You're preaching to the choir," said Emily. "We've all had some rough injuries –"

"JJ hasn't," Morgan reminded her.

"Um, hello," said JJ, eyes narrowing. "Just cuz I haven't been shot doesn't mean – that crazy vampire chick hit me in the head with a shovel – and last year I was tortured –"

"Okay, okay, fair enough. That doesn't leave any fancy marks, though."

"What do you think this is from?" JJ asked as she pointed to the electrical burn scar on her stomach.

"I thought that was a sex injury," Morgan said cheekily – really he'd just never noticed it.

JJ rolled her eyes, "Yeah, you got me, Derek. You uncovered my secret."

"I knew it," he bantered back. "You got hickeyed too hard."

JJ raised her eyebrows doubtfully. "Hard enough to leave a scar?"

"It's possible!"

"Is it?" JJ asked, eyes widening mockingly. "Do you know this from personal experience?"

"Yes, I do," Morgan said, pointing to a faint, almost bruise-looking scar on his shoulder.

Reid made a face.

"That your worst sex injury?" Emily asked jokingly.

"Mhm," Morgan confirmed somewhat proudly.

"Pathetic."

"Wow, okay, Princess," he said, sizing her up. "You got something better?"

"Definitely."

"You gonna share?"

"Nooo," Emily said quickly, her lips lingering in the shape of an 'o'.

"Then it never happened," Morgan taunted.

"Fine," she replied, opting to keep some things private.

"You're no fun. JJ?"

"I got some pretty bad rug burn once," the blonde said after taking a big sip of her champagne. Reid looked mortified.

"No scars, though?" Morgan asked, a smile growing on his face. He was only continuing this conversation because of how funny Reid's reaction to it was.

"No scars," JJ confirmed. "You got any scars, Em?"

"Not from sex," she said. "Got plenty of other ones, though."

"I still wanna see your Doyle scar, Prentiss," Morgan told her.

"Which one?" she replied dryly.

He rolled his eyes. "The big one, obviously. I bet it looks totally badass."

"It's something, alright," she said flatly. "But you're not looking at it."

He pouted. "Pleeeeease?"

"No."

"Am I gonna have to ask _Mark _what it looks like?"

This surprised her. She thought only JJ and Hotch knew about Mark. "How do you know about him?"

"I'll give you one guess."

Her eyes narrowed. "Garcia."

They all nodded.

"And she can get me his phone number just as fast as she found out about him," Morgan threatened.

"Well, you go ahead and call him, then," said Emily. "But he's never seen it."

This surprised all of them, even JJ, who knew almost every dirty detail about Emily's sex life.

"You mean you two never…" Morgan asked, making an obscene gesture.

Emily pursed her lips. "We did, I just never… y'know, took my shirt off."

JJ and Morgan exchanged a look.

"What, don't tell me you never had sex with your shirt on –" Emily started.

"—I have," JJ clarified. "But… only, like, at a bar, or in a closet, or… I dunno, the back of a car maybe…"

"Damn, girl," Morgan said, looking impressed. "But Prentiss, this conversation is just making me want to see that scar more."

"No_. I_ don't even look at it if I can avoid it."

Morgan pouted.

"I'll tell you what," said Emily, suddenly getting an idea. "I'll show you, _if _you show us the _super _embarrassing tattoo you have on your left ass cheek."

This was possibly the first time any of them had seen him flustered.

"How do you know –"

"Girls tell each other everything, Morgan. _Everything._"

He looked a little pale. "How much is everything?"

"I'll spare you the details," said JJ. "But let's just say that thanks to Garcia, Emily and I know the exact measurements of… y'know. Certain things."

"You two are beautiful and smart and amazing, and please don't let me ever forget it, because you know way too much. I can't cross you. You'd ruin me."

"We would," Emily confirmed. "So… do you still want to see the scar?"

"No, I think I'm good."

"Oh, thank God," said Reid, relieved. "I really didn't want to see Morgan's ass."

Morgan gave him a dirty look. "Come on, kid. Everyone wants to see my ass."

Reid's lips formed a thin line. "Hmm, I don't think that's true."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah – keep your pants on, Morgan!" Reid cried as Emily and JJ covered their eyes.

Maybe the four of them sharing a room wasn't their greatest idea.

#

"Hey," said JJ quietly in the dark. They'd all gone to bed, and JJ and Emily were sharing the king size bed while the boys took the couch.

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

Emily rolled to face her best friend. "What do you mean?"

"You're mopey."

"I am not –"

"Yeah, you are. He's probably still up. Why don't you go?"

Emily's mouth opened and shut a few times. No point in denying it. "You know," she accused.

"Yeah," said JJ, scrunching up her face in false sympathy.

Emily sighed. "Okay. You don't think it's clingy if I go over there?"

"Do you care?"

"Morgan and Reid will wonder –"

"I'll cover for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, but you owe me details. Now go."

Emily gave her friend a grateful smile and grabbed her go-bag and duffel before quietly slipping out into the hallway, careful not to wake Reid and Morgan, who were both snoring on the couch.

She gently shut the door behind her and rounded the corner of the corridor before suddenly pausing.

A split second later she consciously recognized the scent, and she froze. Her heart leapt into her throat and she dropped her suitcase, one hand landing protectively on her baby bump, the other hand dropping to where her gun usually rested at her hip – but she'd left it on the nightstand in the suite.

She took a shaky breath, which only confirmed her initial impression: the scent of Ian's cologne hung in the air.

Emily immediately backed into the corner of the hallway, kicking a potted tree out of the way to hopefully gain a tactical advantage if it actually came to a fight.

She had suspected that he'd been following her for some time now, but if he was actually here, why hadn't he confronted her? It wasn't like him to hide in the shadows.

Maybe it wasn't him, she thought after a few minutes went by and nothing happened. Anyone could wear that cologne. And her fight/flight instinct was quiet.

That probably meant she was safe – her gut was very rarely wrong these days.

But… Lauren's gut instinct wouldn't register Ian's cologne as dangerous. And she couldn't really tell if she felt more like Lauren or Emily at the moment.

Eventually the smell faded and then disappeared. Emily waited a few more minutes and then decided she really needed to be in Hotch's arms right now. She straightened the tree, picked up her bag, and took a few steps down the hallway.

Then she had a somewhat impulsive idea and walked right back to the corner where she had been. She pulled a notepad out of her bag and wrote on one of the pages:

"Pouvons-nous parler?" _Can we talk?_

She tore the page out, folded it up, hesitated, and then stuck it into the plant. Then she turned down the hall towards Hotch's room and didn't look back.

When he answered the door – it appeared that she'd woke him – he let her in without hesitation. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah," she said truthfully, leaning into his chest as he wrapped her in an embrace. "I just missed you."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "You want to stay here tonight?"

"Can I?"

"Of course. But won't JJ and the guys realize that you're missing?"

"JJ knows about us," she told him, leaning back to look up at his face. "I don't know how. I didn't tell her. Maybe she just assumed, or maybe she heard us or saw something. But she knows."

He nodded. "Okay."

"You're not mad?" she asked hesitantly.

"No, not at all," he reassured her. "They'll all know eventually, right?"

"Right," she confirmed, feeling a little better. For some reason she'd been afraid that he wouldn't want to stick around once everyone knew. He took her hand and pulled her over to the bed, peeling back the covers so she could crawl in.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly as she settled against his chest. "Your heart is racing."

So maybe she _was_ a little more shaken by the idea of Ian being around than she'd initially thought she was.

That was good though, right? That meant that she was more Emily than Lauren?

"Yeah, I'm fine," she whispered, wanting to change the subject. She did have something she wanted to tell him – maybe it could pass off as the reason her heart was racing. She _was _a little nervous about it. "Hey, can I tell you something?" she said into the darkness.

"Of course," Hotch replied, turning his head towards her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Okay, don't... Don't freak out. Promise?"

"I promise," he said cautiously, starting to get a little worried.

She rolled onto her side and pressed her entire body up against his, burying her face a little in his neck. She grabbed his hand, and he started to say something.

"Shh, wait a sec," she said, pushing his hand flat against her baby bump between their bodies. "Okay, now talk."

"What am I supposed to say?" he whispered, smiling into her hair. The baby kicked his hand a little, and he rubbed the bump gently.

"Anything you want."

"I love you," he told her, and the baby moved around some more.

Emily smiled. "I love you, too. Do you feel that?"

"The kicking? Yeah, it's getting pretty strong. Has Bean been moving around extra today?" he asked, wondering why she was choosing to point this out now. The baby moved all the time. She kicked again as he spoke.

"Every time you talk," she said, pulling away slightly so she could watch his reaction. "I think... I think she recognizes your voice."

His eyes widened a little bit, and his eyebrows went up in surprise. "Really?"

Another little nudge. Emily's hand rested on top of his.

"Mhm," she said, watching him carefully. "I know that's kind of a big deal, and I wanted to tell you, but I get it if it freaks you out or something... I mean, I don't want to pressure you into thinking that this means there's any sort of commitment between you and the baby, but –"

He silenced her with a kiss and was relieved when he felt her smile against his lips. He knew she must've been worried about telling him this – that her baby already recognized him as someone important in her life – especially since that baby wasn't really even his, but...

Emily rolled onto her back, still in his arms, lacing fingers with his hand that was pressed against her stomach. She snuggled closer to him and relaxed, and he knew within a few minutes, if she wasn't too worried about anything, she'd be fast asleep.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked into her hair. The baby moved around again.

Emily smiled. "Yeah, I'm perfect. Goodnight, Aaron."

"Night, Em," he replied, giving her a little squeeze.

Another nudge came from inside her, this time directly pushing against the palm of his hand.

"Goodnight, Bean," he added, earning one last kick.

"I love you," Emily whispered to him, already half asleep.

"I love you, too, sweetheart."


	41. Chapter 41

Emily woke up cold, and instinctively she burrowed farther under the blankets, scooting closer to Hotch's side of the bed. Not feeling any additional warmth, she reached her arm out – and when she came up empty, her eyes popped open. She was facing a vacant bed.

She rolled over, thinking maybe he was on her other side – they didn't have regular sides of the bed, since he always insisted on sleeping between her and the door, just in case. But he wasn't there, either.

She sat up. "Aaron?" she called into the darkened room.

There was no answer.

She knew there was probably a simple explanation, but her heart started racing anyway – if Ian really _was _here…

"Aaron?" she called again, louder this time. Still no answer. His gun sat on the nightstand.

She grabbed it; hers was still back in the suite with JJ. Nervously she got out of bed and padded over to the door, gun ready. It felt different in her hands, a bit heavier, but it was a comfortable weight. She peered around the corner.

The chain was off the door, and the deadbolt unlocked. There was _no _way he'd leave her alone at night like that, guarded only by an electronic key card –

Suddenly the handle started to jiggle, and the door unlocked. It swung open – she lifted the Glock –

–and immediately let out a breath of relief, lowering the gun back to the floor. It was just Hotch. He wasn't paying any attention to her; he was hanging up his phone. He turned his back to her and locked the deadbolt and the chain.

Hotch took a few steps into the room and then looked up, very surprised to see her standing there with his gun.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, knowing she must've panicked when she woke up if she was standing there pointing his Glock at him. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," she said, clearing her throat so as not to sound as shaky as she felt. "I… I just got cold."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, kicking his shoes off and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "The sheriff was calling and I didn't want to disturb you." He carefully took his gun from her shaking hands.

She immediately apologized for taking it without asking. "I left mine in the suite on accident," she explained.

"It's okay. That was the right thing to do." She still looked unsure – using his gun somehow seemed to be a big invasion of his privacy. "Honestly, sweetheart. I'm not mad. I don't care if you use my gun."

"Okay," she agreed, surprising him. "You can use mine if you need to, too."

His dimples popped out and he planted a kiss on her temple.

She looked over to the alarm clock. "It's three in the morning. Why was the sheriff calling?"

The smile disappeared from his face. "They found another body."

Her eyebrows went up. "Another one? We thought this guy was going to go dormant again."

"I know. I'm afraid he's escalating."

"Or devolving."

He nodded, considering. "We need to be careful. This new victim is also supposed to be important in the Russian Mafia – if they decide they don't want us investigating, it could get pretty ugly."

"Do we have to go in to the field office?"

"No," he said gratefully. "They just want us by seven."

"Oh, good," she sighed, starting to tire again.

They got back into bed, Hotch climbing in on the side closest to the door, and Emily snuggled up against his chest, happy to have her personal space heater back next to her.

#

"Wake up, sweetheart," Hotch said as he gently woke her in the morning.

She groaned. "Five more minutes."

"Honey, we're on a case," he reminded her. One of her eyes cracked open. He was toweling his hair dry.

"Need sleep. I'm six and a half months pregnant," she mumbled.

"You're welcome to stay at home if you don't want to come on cases anymore," he replied smartly. He'd told her that a hundred times now – he'd actually _prefer _if she stayed in Quantico. She was getting far enough along that he worried about her going out in the field.

Emily wasn't quite ready to give it up yet.

She sighed dramatically, throwing her covers off and dragging herself out of bed. "I'm up, I'm up."

He shook his head, eyes smiling, and handed her her phone.

She sat up in bed, cracked her back, rubbed her baby bump, and wiped the hair out of her eyes. Then she looked down at her phone.

There were a bunch of new messages in the BAU group chat, which had been given the title "The Incredibles" by Garcia.

Emily selected the chat and scrolled through the conversation. The first text was from Garcia. It read, "PAFBW."

The rest of the team had replied with the thumbs up emoji.

Emily's brow furrowed and she looked up at Hotch. "Did you see the text from Garcia?"

"Yeah," he said, pulling his white dress shirt on.

She blinked. "Well what does it mean?"

He looked up at her in surprise. "What, you mean that's not standard 'BAU lady club' lingo?"

Emily frowned, trying to remember. "I don't think so."

He smiled and started digging through his go-bag for a tie. "Garcia always texts us the day before we do any type of multi-agency task forcing."

"And?"

"It means – these are her words, and JJ's and Morgan's, not mine – it means 'professional AF'," he explained, using air quotes. "And the BW means we should all wear all black and white."

Emily laughed. "You have a dress code now?"

"_We _have a dress code now," he reminded her. "And also, it's not _really_ a code. It's like a guideline."

Emily's eyebrows went up in amusement as she got up. "A guideline?"

"A guideline enforced by Penelope Garcia," he said, tugging her wrist to spin her around and pull her in for a kiss.

"Oh, well then that's not really a guideline at all," Emily said sarcastically as she beamed up at him. "That's more like a dress _law._"

"It is," he agreed, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "So you'd better go get some black and white on."

"Mmm," she hummed. "Okay."

#

Hotch went down to breakfast first and Emily followed about five minutes later. It was probably excessive, but they still didn't want everyone to find out. When Emily got to the breakfast area, she got herself some coffee and went to sit at the table with Hotch, Rossi, Tamsyn and Max.

"Where's brains, brawn, and beauty?" Max asked her as she sat down.

"Um," Emily said, realizing she should've probably gone back to her suite and walked down with the rest of them. "They're coming. There were some… bathroom conflicts."

"Bathroom conflicts?" Rossi asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, they couldn't decide who was showering when," she lied, hoping it wasn't too obvious.

Rossi looked like he didn't believe her, but just then Reid, Morgan, and JJ came into the lobby. They all got coffee, and JJ got her strawberry pastry, and then they joined the others in squeezing around the table.

"I love your hair, JJ!" Tamsyn exclaimed as the blonde took the chair next to her.

"Oh, thanks!" She had two loose, perfectly messy French braids in her long hair, which she patted at Tamsyn's comment.

Morgan and Reid exchanged a look of disbelief, and Morgan slowly shook his head.

"What?" JJ asked defensively.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that me and the kid here both witnessed you doing your hair this morning."

"So?"

"So you wore those braids all day yesterday, _slept _on them, rolled out of bed, stuck your head in the sink, washed your hair _without _taking the braids out, rinsed it and then let it air dry – and you just got a _compliment _on it," Reid said in amazement.

"Yeah, I did," JJ agreed.

"Garcia would be so impressed right now," Emily laughed.

"She would, wouldn't she?" JJ agreed.

"Yeah, whatever," Morgan waved her off. "You feeling any better, Princess?"

No one answered. JJ's eyes widened, and she stared at Emily. It took Emily a second to register what her friend was implying – Morgan was talking to her. "Oh – um, yeah," she stammered. "Much better." So that was how JJ had explained her absence.

"You still seem a little spacey," he commented.

"Just tired," she replied casually. It wasn't a lie, either.

"Do you guys color coordinate on purpose?" Max asked them suddenly.

"No," all six of them replied way too quickly.

Max and Tamsyn looked at each other doubtfully.

"We should try that one with Frye and Rush and see how it goes," Tamsyn suggested.

"Yeah, right. We'd have to tell them the _opposite _of the color we actually want them to wear."

"Let me know how that works," Emily laughed. She couldn't _imagine _those two men agreeing to such an act.

"We should get going," Rossi said regretfully, looking at his Rolex.

JJ swept her pastry into the trash and the eight of them filed out of the hotel, ready for another long day.

#

Emily was sitting in the police station by herself around ten that morning, staring blankly at a map, when her cell phone rang.

Thinking it was someone updating her on something related to the case, she quickly grabbed it from the table.

To her surprise, it was Declan. A little worry line creased her forehead, and she answered it. "Hey, Dec. What's up?"

"Are you on your case still?"

"Yeah, we are. Why? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just wondering… You know that one agent, Easter or something?"

Emily's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yeah, I know him. Why?"

"I think he's following me."

_What the fuck? That was what he had to 'take care of' in DC? _"Why do you say that? Did you see him?"

"Yeah. We had our field trip today. He was in a silver car at the museum when we were leaving. I thought maybe it was a coincidence, but then I saw him in the crowd at my lacrosse game."

"Are you _sure _it was him?" Declan didn't really know Clyde personally – they'd met once when Declan was little, and when Ian had died (or not died), and Emily probably had a few photos of him lying around, but really the boy could be mistaken.

"I'm positive. Do you have any idea _why _he'd be following me?"

"No, I have no idea." _Probably because the bastard somehow knows your dad is alive and is trying to track him down. _"I'll call him, okay? Don't worry about it. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Okay," Declan agreed hesitantly. "I'm not in any danger, am I?"

"No, baby, I don't think so," Emily assured him. That much was true – Ian would never in a billion years even _think _of hurting his son. She was positive about that. "I'll call Clyde and see what's up. How was your lacrosse game? And the field trip?" she asked, trying to get his mind off of his fear that he was in trouble. She wasn't really listening to his answers, though – not the greatest parenting, but she was too busy trying not to panic. What could Clyde possibly know? For what reason would he be following Declan if he didn't know or at least suspect that Ian was alive?

As soon as she hung up with Declan, Emily dialed Clyde – he was still on her speed dial, too. But his phone went straight to voicemail.

Max and Rush returned from the crime scene a few minutes later, and Emily immediately started asking them questions.

"Do you two know what Clyde is doing in DC?" she asked, trying to sound innocently curious but coming off as highly anxious.

"No," Rush said, brow furrowing. "Why? Should we?"

"I asked," said Max flatly. "He got all cryptic about it. Said it had something to do with some old mission or something."

Emily started picking her fingernails and chewing her lip at the same time. "Any idea why he won't answer his phone?"

"He's on the plane over," Frye said, coming in behind them with the lead detective. "You alright, Prentiss?"

"Yeah, I'm good…"

#

"Are you okay?" Reid asked her around one when the two of them were eating lunch together. Everyone else was out in the field. "You're acting different lately."

"Am I?"

He nodded. "If something was bothering you, you'd tell me, right?"

Emily just looked at him for a few seconds. "Yeah, of course."

"So nothing is bothering you?"

"No, I'm fine," she told him, trying her hardest not to pick at her fingernails.

"I don't believe you."

Emily blinked. "Um, okay…"

"I think you're worried about something Doyle-related again," he told her honestly. "Probably because of what's going on with this case."

They'd found out that morning – rather dramatically, actually – that their latest victim's wife, Karin Svlatanov, was a former CIA agent, who had gone undercover and opted to never come back out. As soon as they ran searches on the woman's name, the CIA was swooping in around the Sacramento Field Office watching their every move, trying to make sure the woman's real identity would never be revealed to the people she had gone in to get dirt on. In all honesty, it _did_ remind Emily of Lauren quite a bit.

"And if that's true," Reid continued, "I want you to know that I'm here for you if you ever need to talk about it. You didn't have to face him by yourself back then, and you don't have to face his ghost by yourself now."

"_Why _would you think that he's –"

"Because I know _you, _Emily. And I know behavior. And yours is unusual right now. The only time I've seen you like this is when he was around the first time – before you told us about him. So either it's something related to him again, or it's something else you're worried about that you don't want us to know about. Either way, I just want you to know that I'm here if you want to talk."

Her mouth formed a thin line and she gave him a tight smile. "Thanks, Reid. I really appreciate that," she told him sincerely.

He was profiling her now, not even trying to hide it – his eyes were flickering back and forth as he searched her face. "You're welcome. I mean it, too."

"I know you do."

She started to get up to throw the rest of her food away – this conversation had taken away her appetite – but Reid interrupted her.

"Emily?"

She turned. "Yeah?"

"He's dead and you're still here. You won."

Emily let out a humph before she could stop herself, her eyes quickly dancing up towards the ceiling and then back down at her hands – anywhere but his face. She shook her head. "I didn't win, Reid."

#

There must've been something in the water, because it seemed like everyone had decided to suddenly start getting suspicious at her on the same day – apparently she was losing her touch with compartmentalizing. Emily and Morgan were in the SUV when he suddenly took a wrong turn.

"You should've gone left there," she told him.

"I know."

She frowned and looked over at him, head tilted in confusion. "Then why…?"

"We need to talk."

_Oh, God. Not him, too. _She sighed, exasperated, and threw her head back in annoyance. "Derek, I'm fine. I promise."

"Okay. I don't believe you."

"Did Reid put you up to this?"

"No."

She looked at him doubtfully.

"Okay, fine. He did ask me to talk to you. But I was already thinking about it."

They drove in silence for a few minutes.

"Go ahead, then," Emily said. "Get it over with."

"You gotta know why we're all concerned."

"_All _of you are concerned?"

"Yeah. Me, Reid, JJ, Rossi. Hotch, too. With this woman that used to be CIA – I mean, it's gotta be hitting close to home for you, with the whole undercover thing."

"No, not really."

He gave her a doubtful look. "Y'know, lying to a federal agent is a felony."

She snorted, rolling her eyes at him. "Fine. Yeah, I guess it is a little close."

"Are you okay?"

"More or less."

Morgan looked at her and just nodded a little. He was glad she was being honest, even if they both knew it wasn't complete honesty. "Fair enough. You wanna talk about it?"

She did – preferably with JJ or Hotch – but talking to Morgan _was _usually a bit easier than talking to Reid. There was something about Reid that she felt like she needed to shield, to protect. It was definitely something maternal – maybe because he was their little brother, maybe because he was only two or three years older than her first baby would've been, the one she'd aborted in Rome when she was fifteen – but whatever it was, it prevented her from fully opening up to him. Morgan, on the other hand, was more like a big brother to her – _he_ protected _her, _not the other way around.

"Maybe a little."

This surprised him. "Alright. Start wherever you want."

"I have no idea where to start."

"Start with this case, then," he suggested. "Is it bothering you?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "It is."

"What specifically?"

"The wife."

"Because she reminds you of you?"

"Because she reminds me of Lauren," Emily clarified before she even knew what she was saying.

Morgan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"It's just – I get it, you know? I get why she left the CIA. I get… why she left to be with him." She knew Morgan didn't like to hear about the lengths she'd gone to with Doyle – especially considering his reaction when he found out she was adopting Declan – but whatever, he was the one who asked.

"How long were you under?"

"Two and a half years."

"And did you ever seriously think about staying?"

"Yeah, I did." That was probably the first time she'd ever admitted that to anyone other than herself.

"_Really_?" Morgan asked incredulously. Clearly her answer had pissed him off.

"Really."

"Explain that to me then," he demanded. "Because all I see when I look at Mara Allein is a traitor to the US government."

"She's Karin Svlatanov now," Emily reminded him. "And fine, I'll explain. She goes undercover. She doesn't know exactly what she's up against – only that he's supposedly this huge secret crime lord. But she can't just waltz in and ask him if he's a crime lord – she'd get absolutely nowhere. So she worms her way in like she's been _selected _to do – this is what they picked her for, to seduce him. She does it. But he isn't going to give up the really good information that easily; she still has to build trust. So she stays around and after a while, she becomes more than just his sex partner. They become actual lovers. He trusts her, he opens up – not about the crime ring, not just yet – but about himself."

Emily took a deep breath before continuing. "Soon she's living with him and he's treating her better than anyone ever has. And she realizes that she's genuinely happy with him, even though she knows it's all pretend –"

"—That's the thing that she needs to keep in her head: it's _fake. _He doesn't love her; he doesn't even know her. He loves who she's pretending to be."

"We are who we pretend to be," Emily said automatically, quoting Kurt Vonnegut, who was both her and Morgan's favorite author – it was strange how applicable that particular quote was to her life.

Morgan shook his head. "That's only if you let it get to you. If you slip."

"Like you have any idea what it's like –" she argued, starting to get defensive.

"I did two years undercover, Prentiss. I think I get it –"

"No, you don't, Morgan. You don't because you weren't under as somebody's husband. They didn't sign you up to make someone fall in love with you –"

"Seems like you forgot that _you_ didn't sign up to fall in love with _him _–"

"Well I did fall in love with him, okay? I did."

There was a brief pause.

"_How? _How did you manage to forget what he did? He _killed _people, Prentiss –"

"I know he did."

"And you're totally okay with that?"

"No, I'm not okay with it. But I do know that there's more to a person than whether or not they've killed someone."

"Yeah, but to _fall in love _with that person –"

"_That person _used to wake me up with fresh flowers _every _morning. He used to carry me over puddles so my shoes didn't get wet. He used to wake up yelling in the middle of the night from nightmares about what he did during the day, and he'd only fall back asleep again if we were in each other's arms –"

"_Still, _some _part _of you has _got _to remember that you're _doing a job _–"

"—Yeah, the worst job you've ever done in your life, because the guilt is practically eating you alive – you go in expecting to be working with some sick monster and you end up with a compassionate, genuine human being who _truly _loves you –"

"Doyle was a sociopath. He never loved you."

"I don't believe that," Emily said plainly – and she trusted it so firmly that Morgan's statement didn't even bother her. "And I don't think that Karin would believe that about Svlatanov, either."

"At what point did you – or Karin, or whatever – when do you realize that your loyalty to your _country_ is being tested? And how the _hell _after all the oaths we take do you manage to just forget about all of that in favor of a killer?"

"Oh, well you think about it _long _before you actually make the decision—"

"—Sure, but what's the breaking point? There's got to be something that puts you over the edge –"

"—Yeah, when you realize you're having his baby."

Morgan stopped to stare at her. "What are you telling me, Prentiss?"

"I'm telling you that when Karin found out that she was having Lailah, that's when she decided to stay," she said quickly.

"So if Doyle had knocked you up, you would've decided to stay with him?"

"Yeah, I would've." Back there in Tuscany she'd never actually fully committed to that choice, but now, looking back, she knew. She knew that if Clyde had left her there for a few more weeks, a few more _days_ even, she would've made her choice.

And who knows where she'd be now – maybe she'd be really happy with Ian, moving around every few months to avoid detection. Maybe they'd have a cute little house in the mountains somewhere, maybe Declan would have had a more stable childhood. Maybe Declan would have a little brother – it was hard to say whether or not Mahan would have survived in different circumstances – he'd be seven now. And who knows, maybe there would be a few more babies running around with his blonde hair and blue eyes, and her dimples –

But then again, maybe Declan would be a mini-terrorist, and maybe Mahan would, too. And she never would've met the BAU, and she wouldn't have JJ or Hotch in her life, or any of the rest of them – there would be no Bean, and she never would've gotten the chance to love Jack…

As much as Lauren wished she'd never left, Emily knew things were far better off this way.

"What are you thinking about? There's something else that's bothering you."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does."

She just shook her head, staring out the window. "It's nothing."

"Hey, come on, now. How come you're not talking to me anymore?"

"Because I can tell that you don't want to hear my answers."

"That's not true, Prentiss."

"Yeah, it is. You've never been understanding about anything that has _anything _to do with him, so why would you suddenly care now?"

"Hey, look at me," he commanded.

She did, raising her eyebrows defiantly.

"I have _always_ cared."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, starting to get angry.

"It means I know damn well if I told you _half _of the shit that I'm dealing with right now – you'd freak the fuck out and go crazy on me –"

Now he just looked hurt. "Princess, if you want to talk to me, whatever you say will remain between us. You know that, right? I won't tell anyone."

"I know you wouldn't."

"But you're not going to tell me?"

"No, I'm not."

"_Why_?"

"Because it's none of your business, Morgan. I can handle it."

He exhaled in annoyance. "Is this about that guy that was following you?"

Her face snapped towards his. "What guy?"

"The guy at Babies R Us – is someone stalking you? Because if someone is, Prentiss, that's the type of thing you need to share with us –"

"It's none of your business, Morgan. I can handle it," she repeated through a clenched jaw.

He looked like he was going to keep arguing, but then he just shook his head. "Alright, fine. Whatever."

Emily hummed and turned to stare stubbornly out the window, trying not to cry and hoping her face wouldn't be quite as flushed by the time they got back to the field office.

"You're awfully quiet," Hotch told her worriedly when they finally got a minute alone later that day.

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Everything okay?"

"Morgan and Reid are mad at me," she whispered.

He frowned somewhat protectively. "Why?"

"Because they know something's up and I won't tell them about it."

"Do you want me to talk to –"

"No," she said quickly. "That would just make it worse. It's fine, Aaron. I'm sure they'll get over it eventually."

"Okay," he agreed, watching her carefully. She turned back to the evidence board, but a few seconds later her eyes were filling with tears. "Honey –" he began.

"—I'm sorry," she apologized, wiping her eyes on her sleeve and smudging her mascara a little. "I just really _hate_ fighting with them."

"Did they say something bad?" Hotch asked, taking one of her hands into his. Right now he didn't care if the team found out about them.

"No, not really. I think… I think I'm just tired," she whispered, quickly dabbing a tear away with her free hand before it could fall.

"Maybe you should go back to the hotel and sleep for a little while," he suggested, knowing that her being tired wasn't really the reason she was upset, but maybe it was a contributing factor. "You've gotta be exhausted."

"No, I can do it—"

"—I know you can, but I'm worried about you," he told her sincerely. "And Bean. Maybe you should take a nap. Just an hour or two, and then you can come back fresh. It'd be good for you, and for her. We'll probably be here all night at this rate, and you need your rest." The case wasn't exactly going well – especially now that the CIA was breathing down their necks.

"Maybe you're right," she whispered, giving him a sad little smile as she squeezed his hand.

"I think so. Is it okay if Rossi or Frye drive you back to the hotel? Otherwise you can wait for JJ to get back, but I don't know how long that'll be."

"I'll have Rossi take me. I'll try to be back by dinner, okay?"

"Okay. Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll be fine here. Just take care of yourself and that baby, okay?"

"I will," she said, giving him a tiny smile. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Rossi dropped her off at the end of the block, and she climbed out of the SUV to walk by herself a few buildings down to where their latest hotel was located. Emily looked down for a moment to dig her room key out of her purse, but when she glanced back up, towards a little café one door down from the hotel, something caught her eye that made her stop dead in her tracks.

_He_ was there.


	42. Chapter 42

Emily stood frozen in place for a few seconds, unable to think, with her lips parted slightly in surprise. She didn't move until he did. He stood from the table he was sitting at – she took a few stumbling steps backwards – he took a few steps towards her – her hands went to her gun and to her stomach. He pulled out the other chair at his table and gestured for her to sit in it. She paused.

Her hand slipped away from her gun so both arms could wrap around Bean as she hesitantly closed the distance between them.

Slowly she sank into the chair he'd pulled out for her, never breaking eye contact. He pushed her in and went back to take his own seat. She unholstered her gun and held it in her lap, pointed at him. Just in case.

He slid one of the two coffees at the table over to her. She didn't touch it.

"I don't want it."

"It's your favorite," Ian Doyle told her. His voice made her shudder.

"I'm not supposed to have caffeine," she said tightly, rubbing her baby bump. She hadn't _really _cut caffeine out completely – that was too hard with their job – but she sure didn't want to drink anything he was giving her. Bean was kicking like crazy – it was like she could tell her father was near.

"I know. It's decaf."

Emily just stared at him.

He sighed and took the cup back from her, and, dramatically, took a sip – proving he hadn't done anything to it. He swallowed and then set it back down in front of her, making a face. "I always hated chai."

She rolled her eyes and forced herself to take a gulp. It _was _her favorite. "What do you want?" Emily asked pointedly, fingers splayed across the baby.

"Drink the coffee. When was the last time you ate? You're too thin."

"_What _do you_ want_, Ian?"

"_You_ asked to talk, not me."

"Why are you following me around?" she demanded, mentally preparing herself for whatever answer he would give – but somehow his response _did _surprise her.

"I dunno," he admitted.

She blinked. It wasn't like him at all to not have a plan. "I don't believe you."

"I've been watching."

"_Why? _Tell me what you want."

"You. Still you."

She stiffened; that's what she'd been afraid of. "Dead?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Emily swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Um, okay... Can I ask _why _you're watching me?"

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands over his stomach. "Because I must."

He wasn't making sense, not unless... "You said you want me. Do you mean _me _me, or do you mean Lauren?"

He snorted. "Is there a difference?"

For the first time, she broke eye contact with him, opting instead to look down at her hands, which were folded over her baby bump. "I don't know."

"I don't think so."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You don't?"

"No, I don't. At first when I found you in London I was ready to kill you," he told her – she stiffened – "But then I made the mistake of watching for a day or two."

"And?"

"And I saw _her. _I see her in the way you walk, your smile, your laugh. Your _sweaters,_" he added with an unamused bark of laughter. "I see her in how you interact with the families on your cases, how you talk with children – how you take care of Declan –"

"How long have you been watching me?" Emily asked suspiciously.

"Almost three years."

Her jaw dropped a little. "Almost _three years_?" Dear God, it was a miracle that he hadn't decided to kill her on that first day – how the hell had he managed to fly under her radar for that long? She was damn lucky that he had gotten caught up in his decision making. He easily could've killed her by now… So why hadn't he?

"As soon as I got back on my feet, I tracked you down."

"And you still can't decide if you want to kill me or not?"

Another cruel laugh escaped his lips – his pretty blue eyes sparkled dangerously. "Love, I want to _destroy _you."

Her breath caught in her throat, and her arms tightened around Bean and her gun. Her heart was thumping furiously, and she could feel the panic starting to rise up in her chest –

"Why haven't you?"

"You have _no _idea how addicting you are, do you?" he asked, shaking his head in disappointment.

"You're not killing me because you're _addicted _to me?" she repeated incredulously.

"Technically, right now I'm not killing you because you're pregnant."

She nodded slowly. That sounded more like him. "Yeah, I knew you'd never hurt your kid." She suspected all along that that was why he'd decided to leave her alone, to watch from afar...

"It _is_ mine, then?"

"Yeah."

"I _am _sorry about that, love," he said sincerely. She was surprised by his earnestness.

Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. Apology accepted – maybe not accepted, but _noted _at least.

"It's a girl," she told him.

His reaction was muted, but she could tell that he was happy – his eyes lit up bit, and the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

"Are you watching Declan too?" Emily asked hesitantly.

"No. I don't want to scare him." She tilted her head, and he continued, "I'm glad you have him."

"_Really_?"

"If there's one thing I know I can count on, it's that you'll keep him safe until I decide what to do – when you have the baby."

So that was the plan – wait until Bean was born, and then decide whether or not she would die. And if he did kill her, what would happen then? Would he take their kids? She realized that the prospect of him killing her didn't really scare her – in her heart she didn't believe that he would be able to do it, not if he'd been watching her for three years and hadn't yet...

"You're wearing my ring," he observed.

The hand that had been resting on Bean moved upward to finger the gold ring through her sweater. "Yeah."

"Is that for show?"

"If it were for show, wouldn't I have it on outside of my sweater?"

"You only started wearing it after you got pregnant."

"That's true," she agreed hesitantly.

"Why?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe... maybe 'because I must'," she stammered, quoting what he'd said earlier. They were drawn to each other like moths to flames – both knew that there was no further potential between them, they would only destroy each other, and yet here they were. Haunting each other.

"And you decided to have my baby," he mused. "And I didn't have to tie you to a bed for nine months."

"Seven," she corrected offhandedly.

"Seven?"

"You... you only had Chloe for seven months."

Ian blinked. "Right," he agreed slowly.

They stared at one another in silence for a few seconds.

"Was any of it real? In Tuscany?" he asked her suddenly in what she thought may have been a rare moment of vulnerability.

She opted to tell him the truth. "Everything but my name," she admitted quietly.

"You loved me, then."

"Yeah," she said calmly, hiding her rising panic. Her heart was racing, her stomach turning as she felt Bean squirming around, probably due to her mother's skyrocketing stress levels...

"We could've been happy," he told her, and she thought that maybe he sounded a little sad.

"I know," she whispered.

"Why did you leave?"

Subconsciously she knew that he was no longer talking to her – he was talking to Lauren. "I didn't want to go," she said quickly, "They pulled me out. They knew I was in too deep."

He looked doubtful.

"I was going to stay with you," she whispered.

"I don't know if I believe you," Ian replied slowly, his eyes seemingly piercing her nearly-impenetrable mask of neutrality – how could he read her even when her team sometimes couldn't? "How do I know you're not lying to save your skin?" he asked harshly.

"I guess you don't," she said softly, pushing her hand flat against her stomach – Bean was acting up like crazy.

This distracted him. "Baby kicking?" he asked suddenly, his gaze drifting to her swollen abdomen. It didn't bother her as much as it should've.

"Yeah."

His eyes flicked back up to hers. "Do you hate me?"

It took her a moment to respond. "No, I don't," she told him truthfully. "Do _you _hate _me_?"

He shook his head. "No."

"It'd be easier," Emily offered.

"Yeah, it would," he agreed.

They sat quietly for a few seconds, and Emily could practically hear her heartbeat – it felt like it was in her throat. They stared at each other, neither sure what to say next, each filled with their own strange mixture of disdain, fear, and desperate longing...

"So… Aaron Hotchner," Ian began, leaning back towards her and crossing his arms on the table.

Her gaze hardened into a glare, her jaw tightened, and she sat up a little straighter. "Don't hurt him."

"Don't worry, love, I won't. He's taking care of you while I can't." Ian tilted his head back and forth, seemingly weighing his options, and then he added, "For now."

"For now?" she repeated.

"Aye. I suppose after the baby is born, and I make my decision, we'll see what happens to him. And little Jack."

Under the table, the safety of her gun clicked off. "If you lay a _finger _– if that kid ever tells me that he even _saw _you – I _will _kill you."

"Not here, love. Too many witnesses. And besides," he said, shifting his weight. "It's your turn to die, not mine." He frowned a little, looking somewhere over her shoulder, and started to push his chair out. "I gotta go. I'll see you around."

"Ian – where are you –" she started, but he was up and lost in the crowd within maybe ten seconds, and she was left alone at the table, heart racing, trying to process what just happened. A second later she felt a hand on her shoulder. Emily nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Who was that?" a familiar voice asked.

"Who was what?" Emily asked way too quickly as Clyde took the seat that Ian had only just vacated.

"The man you were just talking to."

"I don't know what you're –"

"Then why are you shaking?"

"I'm not," she denied, placing her shaking hands in her lap.

"Weren't you supposed to be resting? What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," she lied. "What are _you _doing here?"

"Picking you up. Hotchner asked me to. You're not supposed to have caffeine," he said, eyeing her coffee.

"It's decaf," she said offhandedly. Suddenly Emily remembered Declan's phone call, and a scowl crossed her face. "What the hell were you doing following Declan around yesterday?"

Now Clyde's mouth formed a thin line. "You weren't supposed to know about that."

"Ughm, okay – you can't just _stalk_ my kid, Clyde –"

"I wasn't stalking _him_ –"

"Then what the hell were you doing? I thought you were busy 'taking care of something' –" she argued, using air quotes.

"Oh, cut the crap, Em. We both know what I was 'taking care of' –"

Emily's eyes narrowed. She was pretty damn sure she knew what he was implying – there was a sinking feeling in her stomach – but she wasn't ready to admit defeat quite yet. "I don't know what you're–"

"I'll give you a little hint, then. Maybe I should've gotten here to pick you up two minutes earlier, and _he'd_ be taken care of."

Emily's face was beet red now. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said evenly, angrily through a clenched jaw.

She should've probably been panicking, but she couldn't, not when Lauren was seeing red _– fucking try to hurt him and see what happens_, she thought, seething, her arms curling protectively around her baby – _his _baby.

"So you're still playing dumb, huh? You won't admit it even when you _know _that I know he's around here somewhere – I should've _known _he'd choose to follow you over his kid –"

His eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed as he saw her arms tighten around her stomach. "Don't tell me that's his kid, too –"

"Fuck off, Clyde," she warned him, fighting to keep Lauren from lashing out and to keep her tears at bay.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked angrily. "You're supposed to put pieces of shit like him away, not protect them and – and fall in love with them – does Hotchner know about your secret love affair, I wonder, or are you fooling him with your noble little FBI agent act, too?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about – there's _so_ much more to it than that –"

"So he is alive, then? And you've been in contact with him?"

The tears started coming then. "Clyde–"

"–Is that his baby?"

She just stared at him brokenly. "I didn't ask for this, okay? I'm just trying to do the best I can – I need to deal with it by myself –"

"Sure thing, _Lauren_," he spat, getting up.

"Clyde – please don't –"

He started walking away and she got up to follow – but when she stood, her heart started thudding painfully and her vision flashed. She grabbed at the patio chair she'd been sitting in to steady herself – her chest tightened, and everything was blurry. She tried to force herself to take deep breaths, but then she started to shake, and her ears felt funny, and she couldn't breathe –

"Clyde–" she managed to croak just as she started feeling faint, weak – why was it suddenly so warm?

He managed to catch her just before she blacked out.


End file.
